


Gaining Perspective

by Dragonlingdar



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, M/M, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, bad plot device, human optimus, human!megatron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-11-18 02:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonlingdar/pseuds/Dragonlingdar
Summary: Megatron and Optimus are turned into humans by a prototype weapon Starscream uses against them.  In order for Megatron to get his revenge and Optimus to free himself of Megatron, they must reclaim their original bodies.  However, will they still be Optimus Prime and Megatron by the time they do?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's swear that it's a better story than the summary makes it sound. 
> 
> This is a story that I am moving over from ff.net because AO3 is apparently where all the cool kids hang out now. My name on ff.net is Ryuuko1, I give myself permission to cross-post this story.

Optimus woke slowly, disorientation making his head swim.  His vision slowly cleared and almost immediately a sense of... _wrongness_...hit him.  Everything seemed far too large.  A number of other, different sensations made themselves known to him, things he really couldn't put words to—he just felt more... _fragile_.  He could feel the air currents acutely, the wind caressing his body in an unfamiliar—but not unpleasant—way.  Above him (too far above) he could see Earth's star hanging in the sky, and was almost hypersensitive to the fact that the photons hitting his body made it warm slightly.   
  
There were other, less pleasant sensations  that assailed his senses as well.  His head hurt horribly, a pounding pain he'd only rarely experienced plaguing him.  That wasn't the only pain, though.  Beneath him, the ground dug into his back in uncomfortable ways, poking at suddenly sensitive areas.  There was a dull, annoying thud that echoed through his body and he wished it would go away, having a hard  time concentrating with the constant background noise.  He shifted, and tried to get his hands under him, to help him sit up.  He yelled and used some choice swear words he had learned when something sharp dug into his palm.  He scowled and looked at the appendage before staring dumbly at it.  He sat up fully, leaning over his legs slightly as he examined his palm.  
  
_How...how can this_ be _?_ He wondered, watching bright red liquid ooze out of a fleshy palm.  He looked down at the rest of himself and he felt dread and surprise and confusion flood his being.  Small, dexterous fingers ran along chocolate-colored skin, traced contours of muscle, and explored a very, very different face.  He had lips, and a nose, and ears, and eyes.  He had short, wiry hair on his head, as well as a line of hair that trailed down his stomach to...his brain briefly short-circuited as he realized that he also had the human male reproductive organ.  He didn't mind being assigned a male body, but...the actual _physicality_ of it was...startling.  Bewildering.  He was completely and utterly lost, and it was a distasteful feeling to the former Autobot leader.  
  
_How did this happen?_ He wondered.  He attempted to push himself to his feet before promptly falling back onto his butt with a cut-off curse.   
  
The balance was _completely_ different.   
  
After two more failed attempts at standing freely, he crawled over to a nearby tree and used it to support him onto his feet, even though the bark dug into his hands and his knees and feet were bleeding from the less-than-friendly forest floor.  His legs trembled as he clung to his support, and his eyes swept around him.   
  
It was odd, only being able to see in the 500 to 800 nanometer wavelength range.   
  
What had he been doing anyway?  
  
_Right.  Sam was off attempting to 'vacation' with his family and I was with them, protecting them.  Megatron attacked..._  
  
Optimus felt his pulse speed up and a flood of hormones entered his system, steadying him slightly as a thought dawned on him.  _Megatron.  What if he...?_  
  
With some trepidation, Optimus let go of the tree trunk.  He instinctively windmilled his arms in an attempt to remain balanced, and was pleased when he was at least capable of standing.  Walking was a different story.   
  
_I understand now why a child's first steps are seen as a milestone_ , Optimus thought blandly as he was forced to use the same tree to pull himself to his feet.  He caught sight of a fairly large, sturdy-looking stick, and so carefully shimmied around the tree until he could pick it up.  Once in his possession, he planted it firmly into the earth before taking a step, clinging to it in an attempt to keep himself upright.  
  
A small part of him was glad that no-one was around to see the great Optimus Prime hobbling around unsteadily and naked.  It would have been humiliating, and Optimus _did_ have his pride.   
  
He made slow, steady progress towards where he thought he remembered Sam's campsite being, although he had to stop for frequent rests.  A biological body was much more susceptible to tiring than his former one.  His progress was halted, however, when he came across a prone, naked human.  He—obviously male—was unlike any human Optimus had seen before.  His lithe body was all graceful lines, and his long hair was pure silver—even his eyelashes, Optimus could faintly see.  His skin was a pale, pale cream, his features sharp and delicate at the same time.  
  
Optimus poked him lightly with his walking stick, curious.  
  
The human stirred and rolled onto his back, flinching as something unpleasant undoubtedly dug into his back.  When their eyes locked, Optimus saw that his were the color of garnets—incredibly rare among humans, as far as he knew.  
  
There was something _familiar_ in that gaze...  
  
“What do you want, _human_?” the man demanded, and the voice made Optimus's new eyebrows shoot up.  
  
“Megatron?” he asked.  His own voice, too, had remained the same—thankfully.  
  
There was a brief look of confusion at the mismatch of face and voice before the former Decepticon leader gave him smirk.  
  
It was oddly suited to his face, which was compellingly handsome in a cold way.  
  
Optimus idly wondered what Megatron saw when he looked at him.  
  
Optimus watched Megatron's eyes—they had always been the most expressive part of his being—and knew when his opposite discovered all of the same things Optimus had, albeit with surprising speed—faster than he had put all the pieces together.   
  
“ _Optimus_ ,” the Decepticon hissed.  “What did you _do_?”  
  
Optimus frowned.  “ _I_ didn't do _anything_.”  
  
“Then how are you and I trapped in these _base_ shells?”  
  
“I _don't know_.  The last thing I remember was—”  
  
“You and I fighting.  What went...” Optimus watched in intrigue as Megatron trailed off, obviously thinking hard.  Optimus knew when the Decepticon had reached a conclusion from how dark his countenance became.  “When I get my hands on Starscream, I am going to rid this universe of him once and for all.  He has crossed the line with _this_ powerplay.”  
  
Megatron stood fluidly, making Optimus burn in envy.   
  
He obviously was as unfamiliar with how to walk in a human body as Optimus, and after a few failures at taking steps, Optimus reached out his hand to him.  Megatron gave it a look of pure disdain.  
  
But eventually took it anyway.  Once they were both steady, Optimus treated both him and Megatron to a purely objective once-over, thinking.   
  
“We cannot stay this way,” he eventually stated.  
  
Megatron gave him a look that said, 'No shit.'  
  
“No, I mean _unclothed_.”  
  
“And where, my dear Prime, do you suggest we _obtain_ this human convention?” Megatron drawled.  “Surely you don't plan on _stealing_ it.”  
  
Optimus shifted on his feet.  It was a valid point.   
  
“I also have no intention on remaining this way for long, anyway.”  
  
“We have to find a way to get to Starscream, though, and for that we will have to travel through human society.  In order to get your revenge, you will need to make some concessions.”  
  
Megatron's lip curled back in a snarl.  “Don't you _dare_ seek to order me,” he told Optimus in a low growl.  
  
That, too, was oddly suited to his new form.   
  
Optimus cocked an eyebrow.  “Wouldn't think of it.  However, we need each other right now—unless you want to brave the human world on your own?”  
  
Megatron appeared to waver.  The Decepticon wasn't stupid— _egotistical_ , perhaps, but not stupid.  He could figure out the odds easily enough of him surviving and being able to exact his revenge alone.  
  
Optimus knew when the Decepticon leader came to his conclusion.  “Very well,” he admitted grudgingly.  “We will stay together— _for now_.”  
  
“For now,” Optimus agreed.  “First, though—we must find clothes in order to move around human society.”  
  
Megatron growled uncomplimentary things about human societal conventions, which Optimus ignored.  
  
Optimus was again annoyed that Megatron seemed to have better endurance than he, and seemed to adapt to the human gait more quickly, but said nothing.  It would make Megatron gloat and _that_ would make the man—ha—insufferable.  
  
Night fell remarkably quickly, and a strange panic began to form in Optimus's gut.  Perhaps it was the darkness that his eyes couldn't penetrate; perhaps it was the vulnerability of his naked body, or the bugs that seemed to delight in feasting on it.  Or it could be that he had his usual arch-enemy leaning against him for support, obviously exhausted.   
  
Perhaps Megatron's endurance isn't as substantial as I thought.  
  
The two of them eventually stumbled upon an abandoned campsite, one where the majority of equipment and supplies were left behind.  
  
“They must have been driven away by our battle,” Optimus observed.  
  
“Smart for _humans_ ,” Megatron sneered, but there was a weariness in his voice that he couldn't entirely conceal.  
  
“Of which you are now one,” Optimus pointed out.  
  
That particular statement earned him a glare that would have withered any other.   
  
Optimus simply shrugged it off.  “Come.  Let's see if they left anything that we can use.”  
  
“And this isn't stealing?” Megatron asked, incredulous.  
  
Optimus paused.  “If they left it behind, they must not have wanted it.”  
  
“You're justifying doing something that would be considered _immoral_ by your usual standards?”  
  
Optimus sighed, his face tightening.  “I want to survive.”  
  
Megatron treated him to an inscrutable look before a wry smirk formed on his face.  “I see.  Then, by all means, let's examine what they left behind.”  
  
The two former-Cybertronians riffled through the belongings and managed to find a few things of interest—food, a little bit of clothing, some money, and shelter.  All good things for two newly-minted humans.  
  
The next challenge they faced was exactly how to get the clothes on.  
  
“No, I think it goes the other way.”  
  
“Don't tell me what to do!”  
  
Optimus sighed softly and held up the piece of clothing he was trying to figure out.  He paused and tried to recall how Sam and Mikaela dressed, frowning slightly.   
  
Finally deciding it was probably something _Mikaela_ would wear, not Sam, he tossed the bra aside, and picked up another piece—this one he recognized a little better.  It was definitely a shirt.  After bracing himself on a nearby tree, he pulled the shirt over his head, like he remembered seeing other humans do.  With a blink, his head passed through the neck-hole and his arms found their ways through the sleeves.  
  
_So far so good._  
  
He looked down at his weary legs and winced as he shifted his weight, pretty sure that the soles of his feet were torn up.   
_  
I need shoes_ badly _, although pants and underwear would be nice, too._  
  
Pants and underwear were, indeed, eventually located, but they could only find _one_ pair of shoes that fit them.   
  
Optimus sighed.  He was in no mood for a confrontation, and if he insisted on having the shoes, he knew a fight would ensue that would most likely harm them both beyond what they knew how to deal with, so he tossed the shoes to Megatron, who caught them with a suspicious look.  
  
“If I took them for myself, you'd eventually take them from me via force—and as I have enough pain from the day, I figure adding such hurt as you would give me would be...ill-advised.”  
  
Megatron's eyebrows slowly rose and he gave the shoes a wary look.  
  
“They aren't rigged,” Optimus replied to the look, slightly annoyed.  “I'm not a _Decepticon_ , afterall.”  
  
Megatron snorted.  “You are still my _enemy_.”  
  
Optimus sighed.  “Do you want to continue to leave bloody footprints in your wake?”  
  
That seemed to be enough to convince the Decepticon to use socks they found along with shoes.  Optimus had to settle for socks, but figured that once they reached a human settlement that they'd be able to acquire some more useful tools to help them hide among their new race.   
  
Optimus voiced a strange sound that had Megatron looking at him in suspicion as Optimus tried to puzzle out what had just happened.  
  
“I have heard that sound before,” Optimus said slowly.   
  
Megatron shook his head and sighed softly.  “How is it that _I_ have less experience with humans and can tell _you_ that you just _laughed_?  What is so funny anyway?”  
  
“We hid in plain sight as vehicles and modes of transportation that humans see and use every day when Cybertronians—now we are attempting to hide among them as humans with considerably more difficulty.  I find it... _ironic_.”  
  
Megatron paused, snorted, and shook his head.  “ _You_ hid among them, Autobot.  I have never debased myself to that level.”  
  
Optimus rolled his eyes.   
  
Megatron startled slightly and pressed a hand to his stomach, looking completely off-guard and bewildered, which reminded Optimus of a time when they weren't quiet enemies yet...  
  
“What's wrong?”  
  
“My torso made a funny noise and I feel...I'm not sure how to describe it.”  
  
Optimus frowned, about to ask further questions when his own stomach protested the lack of food it had received, which made Optimus blink, then smile slightly.  “Megatron, you're _hungry_.”  
  
“What?” the Decepticon asked, obviously confused.  There was a curiosity in his voice that, if one didn't know him well, would be completely dismissed or mistaken for disdain.  But, Optimus could tell that Megatron was more intrigued by his new human body than he cared to let on.  
_  
He always was one for new and unique experiences_ , Optimus thought with no small amount of amusement.  “You need to eat food,” Optimus explained.  With the help of his walking stick, he made it to the pack that they had discovered what Optimus had recognized as food and rifled through it.  None of it was familiar, but he had very little experience with human food, aside from the occasional cooking show he had watched online when bored.  
  
But, he _could_ read the packaging, and he knew granola bars were food, so he took one out for both himself and Megatron.  He had a feeling it wouldn't be enough, but it would at least fix the gnawing protest in his gut.   
  
“Here,” Optimus said and deliberately tossed the bar when Megatron was trying to figure out how to tie the shoelaces.  The former Decepticon looked up in time for the bar to smack into his forehead, making the Decepticon growl darkly and scowl at Optimus, one hand lightly rubbing the spot where he had been hit.   
  
“You will pay for that later,” Megatron promised.  “What is this anyway?” he asked, picking up the packaging.   
  
“I know it is food.  What kind of food...I am unsure,” Optimus murmured as he struggled with the packaging.  “You do not eat the shiny plastic on the outside,” he mentioned absently, guessing that Megatron would simply try to eat the entire thing.  “You...take it...off... _somehow_.”  Such delicate work with his fingers was a challenge, as he wasn't used to dealing with something quite so small or with such resilience.  
  
Megatron was the one to figure out the trick for opening the package, and Optimus followed his example, peeling back to covering to reveal a small, tan, brittle-looking bar.  Optimus thought back to how Sam or one of the soldiers would eat and, with some hesitation, took a small part of the bar in his mouth and bit down.  He was mildly surprised at the crunch, but even more so at the _flavors_.  He...Cybertronians didn't _have_ tongues, so while he had heard some of the soldiers complain about how bad army food tasted, he had never quite understood what they had meant.  This...he didn't really have words in his lexicon to describe the tastes because he had never actually _tasted_ something before.  He moved his jaw up and down, and with the help of saliva his body naturally produced, broke down the granola bar into pieces he could swallow.   
  
A lot of the process was reflexive, but he found each step fascinating.   
  
It did a little to assuage his hunger, but not much, so he continued to take small, manageable bites.  He could tell when Megatron reluctantly followed his example from the small, surprised sound the former Decepticon made.   
  
Strangely comfortable silence fell in the small campsite, and Optimus was almost sad to finish the granola bar.  It had been a... _unique_ experience, and he looked forward to exploring more of what his new human digestive track could experience.   
  
Unfortunately, after eating he was... _thirsty_?  He believed that was the word.  When humans became thirsty they drank something.   
  
_But, what...?_  
  
Optimus rifled through the pack again, and picked out a plastic bottle filled with clear liquid.  The label said 'Poland Spring Water', and he figured from how the seal had yet to be broken, the contained water was drinkable.  He twisted the cap like he remembered seeing Sam down and with a small snap the cap came off.   
  
_Must remember—do not inhale the water._  
  
He had seen the effects of Sam drinking water a little too fast, resulting in him inhaling a little, which sent him into a coughing fit until his body felt his respiratory track was clear of the liquid.  Optimus idly hoped that his body would prove to have an instinct on this bit as well.  
  
Thankfully, to an extent, it did.  He had to semi-consciously stop breathing in order for the water to go down the right entrance, but otherwise he was fine.   
  
When he tossed Megatron the water bottle (who caught it, giving Optimus a withering glare in the process), he took subtle pleasure in how the former Decepticon sputtered and coughed until he figured out what Optimus had quasi-known.  
  
“How often do we have to do that?” Megatron muttered unhappily, looking at the water bottle with extreme distaste.   
  
“Most humans have food three times every day.”  
  
“ _Every day_?” Megatron said, surprise lacing his voice.  “I suppose that is why they have such massive landfills, the wasteful beings.”  
  
“Megatron, it's no longer ' _they_ '.  _You_ are a human now, too.”  
  
Megatron snarled.  “Just because I may have the body of one does not mean _I am one_.”  
  
The Decepticon had a point.   
  
“Nonetheless, it might be prudent to refrain from such statements.”  
  
Megatron shook his head, and Optimus was struck with how much more expressive the human countenance could be.  Before, Optimus had needed to rely almost entirely on posture and eyes to divine what the particular Cybertronian sitting near him was feeling, but now...his emotions and thoughts were much more evident.  
  
Optimus idly wondered if the same was true for him.  He could tell Megatron was pondering something from how he was resting his chin on the back of his hands, elbows braced on his knees.  His hair gleamed in the moonlight and his red eyes glowed ever so faintly.  The image was oddly compelling.   
  
“What are you plotting?”  
  
Megatron looked at him, his lips quirked up slightly in an expression of pure innocence.  “ _Me_?  Plot?  I'm _wounded_.  What would make you say that?”  
  
Optimus snorted in derision.  “It is in your face.  What are you planning?”  
  
There was a brief silence before the Decepticon leader spoke: “Tell me, Prime.  Say we _do_ manage to incorporate ourselves into the human hive.  What do we do then?  Your silly _morals_ will not allow us to survive off of taking what we need without concern for the humans from whom we take.  How do we proceed in finding Starscream and take him down when we are so weak and small?  How do we achieve returning to our true forms?”  Megatron sighed softly, obviously frustrated.   
  
Silence fell as both Cybertronian leaders thought, Optimus leaning against a tree, his walking stick propped against his shoulder.   
  
“I am not sure,” Optimus said mournfully.  “Perhaps...”  When Megatron didn't butt in to make some snide comment about Optimus's lack of knowledge, it subtly frightened the Autobot.  He tried to calm the annoying pounding in his chest ( _heartbeat, it's called a heartbeat and if I want to live, I need to make sure it stays beating_ ) and listen.  Megatron could not have walked away without him knowing.  
  
Instead, all Optimus heard was calm, even, slow breathing.  He squinted into the darkness until he saw the human-Megatron leaning against a tree of his own, eyes closed, and quite obviously asleep.  
  
Optimus found himself smiling fondly, and quickly removed the expression from his face.  
  
_He's...somehow_ softer _when asleep.  The constant edge of anger and pride is gone, and with his almost pretty visage...it is very different.  He'll probably freak out tomorrow over having lost hours that he could have been doing something in._  
  
Optimus chuckled softly and tried to settle himself as comfortably as possible against his tree, closing his own eyes.  Sleep in a human body promised to be an... _interesting_...experience.  
  
–  
  
Optimus distantly felt something poking at him and idly swatted it away, quite content to be drifting lazily on warm, languid currents of sleep.  
  
“ _Optimus_ ,” a voice hissed in his ear, and the voice dragged him to wakefulness, since it was usually connected with danger.  His eyes snapped open to find himself looking into deep ruby ones.  That caused him to start, which scrapped his back against the tree and made him hit his head against the unmoving object.  
  
The face backed away from his, a smug expression on it.  “For yesterday,” Megatron purred, making Optimus glare at him.  The Decepticon sat back on his heels and gave Optimus a considering look.  “I have been thinking about our...situation.  You know much more about these beasts than I, so I have a few questions.”  
  
“They are _not_ beasts.”  
  
Megatron ignored the statement, “Neither you nor I look typical, do we?”  
  
“I know _you_ do not—I cannot see myself.”  
  
Megatron quirked an eyebrow slightly.  “Your skin is dark brown, your eyes are  a slightly glowing azure, and you have red hair.  I do not believe that is typical?”  
  
“In way of natural coloring, no.  But humans have been known to change their appearance to suit their personality.”  
  
Megatron snorted and shook his head in disdain.  “Humans use forms of currency to obtain everything they desire, right?”  
  
“Yes,” Optimus replied, surprised at the topic jump.  
  
“How do they normally go about getting this currency to help achieve comfort?”  
  
“Most humans possess 'jobs'.”  
  
“Which are?”  
  
Optimus paused and thought.  “I...am not sure.  I am familiar with the human military and government, not as much with the civilian population.  Bumblebee would know more than I.”  
  
“Unfortunately, we do not have that poor excuse of a Cybertronian as a resource.  And anyway...” Megatron trailed off, looking quite thoughtful, which made Optimus nervous.  
  
“Spit it out,” Optimus demanded.  
  
“Do not order _me_ around.”  
  
“ _Megatron_.”  
  
Megatron snarled.   
  
Optimus reached out and grabbed Megatron by the collar of his shirt and dragged him close, touching their foreheads so their eyes were even.   
  
“If we are going to get through this, you will _have_ to share your plans with me, as I will share my conclusions with you.  If you do not, we cannot hope to retrieve our former selves.”  
  
Megatron's gaze was sullen.  It told Optimus that he knew the Autobot was right—but he didn't have to like it.  
  
“We will join the military,” he finally said.  
  
Optimus's eyebrows rose slightly.  “What?”  
  
“You and I are both very familiar with this country's military.  We are also both fighters and leaders by nature.  It would also be possible that if we got cozy enough with those in power that we might be able to join that ridiculous team of humans and Autobots that hunt down Decepticons, in which case it is possible that we will be exposed to something that might return us to our normal bodies.”  
  
“But will also run the risk of being recognized by our former allies.”  
  
“And _enemies_ ,” Megatron drawled.  “Nevertheless, I would like to work my way into that group—precisely because it might lead us to my former peons.  Getting rid of Starscream in this form would humiliate him, and since I know where all his weaknesses are...” Megaton's eyes narrowed and glittered evilly, “I will make him _suffer_.”  
  
“You will not be able to do that too quickly.  It would bring suspicion on you, and as we cannot afford that...”  
  
Megatron growled darkly and wrenched away from Optimus's grip, standing and walking slowly but steadily away.  Optimus watched the former Decepticon pace for a few moments before saying:  “We must choose names.”  
  
Megatron stopped mid-stride and turned to face Optimus, face darkening.  “I _refuse_ —”  
  
“If we are to obtain employment, we need names that are not Megatron or Optimus Prime.”   
  
Megatron scowled.  “My name is my _identity_.”  
  
“And you will have to change it in order to achieve your aims.  What is your name?”  
  
Megatron's eyes narrowed.  “I suppose you will want them to be bland, pedestrian names?”  
  
“No need to drag any more attention to ourselves than necessary.”  
  
_Especially because I know that we will do so whether we want to or not—we will not be able to entirely hide our_ difference _.  It is too much of who we are._  
  
“I...I will be Oliver Pederson,” Optimus eventually said.  
  
“O.P.  You are pathetic,” Megatron drawled.  
  
“Then I assume you will be more creative?”  
  
“I do not have the luxury of two names.  My first name will be Michael.  As for the last...we shall see.”  
  
“Michael?” Optimus replied, slightly incredulous.  “You're serious.”  
  
The Decepticon gave him a smirk. “Entirely.”  
  
“You always were one for irony,” Optimus drawled.  “'Who resembles God' indeed.”  
  
The smirk grew into a grin.  “I do my best,” he purred.  
  
“You will always be an egotistical megalomaniac no matter what your form, won't you?”  
  
“Thank you for all the compliments, oh dense and ineffective ruler of the Autobots.”  
  
There was a tense silence in the camp.   
  
Eventually, Optimus sighed and pushed himself to his feet, much steadier this time.  He let go of the walking stick and took a few steps.  When he didn't face-plant into the dirt, he gave Megatron a look.  “Shall we?”  
  
“If we _must_ ,” Megatron drawled.  “Do you even know where we are or how to get anywhere?”  
  
Optimus sighed.  “I remember seeing a pathway—a broken-in trail that some might use to hike.  It could quite possibly lead us to a road.”  
  
“Or get us even more lost.”  Megatron sighed this time.  “If only I could contact Soundwave...”  
  
“You _can't_ , though,” Optimus pointed out.  “So we must make do.”  
  
Megatron growled softly.  “I feel deaf and blind.  Such a limited scope of wavelengths...”  
  
“But you can feel more acutely and taste.  The sense of smell is also very different from what we're used to.  It's...a trade-off.”  
  
“The bodies are tiny, require frequent rest and sustenance...”  
  
Optimus allowed Megatron to rant, since from previous experience he knew that once the Decepticon had it out of his system, he would be more pleasant—as far as that could be said to extend.  Megatron was never _really_ pleasant anymore.  Not since...  
  
Optimus shook himself out of his thoughts to notice a cramping in his lower torso.  It wasn't the same as when he was hungry (although he was becoming so, now that they were up and moving again), it was a different kind of pressure.  Equally uncomfortable, though.  
  
It was only when he began to leak that he got a clue.  
  
His body needed to excrete waste.  
  
_But...how?_  
  
Optimus paused and looked around, suddenly self-conscious.   
  
“What are you doing, Prime?” Megatron asked, having noticed that Optimus was no longer beside him.  
  
“This body needs to rid itself of the digestive track's waste products.”  
  
Megatron cocked an eyebrow.  “Ah.  Right.  That.  Annoying and inconvenient.”  
  
“You've already experienced it?”  
  
“In a manner,” Megatron evaded. “I will wait here.  You figure it out on your own.”  
  
Optimus sighed gustily and walked a short ways away, running over what he had seen males of the human race do (especially when Sam had complained about feeling like he was going to explode—they had pulled over onto the side of the road and Sam had...).  
  
Optimus unzipped his pants and let them fall slightly, before pushing down his newfound underwear so that the male reproductive organ (what was it called?  Penis, he believed, although there were hundreds of euphemisms) was hanging out.  He felt something within him seem to...release...and a small stream of pale yellow liquid ( _urine, right?_ ) flowed out of it and onto the forest floor.  
  
Once Optimus felt that he no longer had the need to pee, he resettled himself in his underwear and pants before turning around and finding Megatron.   
  
He was surprised when he walked back and found him lifting things from the ground, but not, apparently, for any set purpose.  
  
To Optimus's eyes, it appeared that he was exploring the range of motion the human body was capable of, which amused the Autobot.  For all his twisted views and desire for world domination, Megatron was still highly inquisitive, and only his abject disdain for biological lifeforms kept him from examining them rather than killing them.  But now that he was one, he was afforded the luxury of dealing with biological processes without having to worry about other humans.  
  
“What are you doing?” Optimus asked, breaking Megatron's revere.  
  
Megatron blinked and flushed slightly.  “I am testing the limits of human strength and flexibility.  I want to know how much work I have before me,” he said in a terse, quasi-accusative tone.  
  
Optimus was unable to squelch a knowing smile, which earned him a glare from Megatron.  “I see.  Shall we move on?”  
  
“Might as well,” Megatron growled.  
  
They walked in silence for a while before Megatron began voicing his thoughts and doubts.  Optimus felt that the Decepticon tended to do this while alone, but since he had agreed to a temporary truce and working relationship with Optimus, he apparently felt he could do so with the Autobot around.  He spoke of practical matters, such as other clothing, food, housing, things they would need to deal with prior to attempting to join the military.  They would have to learn human slang, conventions, societal norms, appropriate behavioral patterns.   
  
It promised to be endlessly more difficult to hide as humans among humans than as vehicles among humans.  
  
“What have we gotten ourselves into?” Optimus finally murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully as they walked.   
  
Megatron shrugged.  “No clue.  All I know is that when I get my hands on Starscream, he is going to have to redefine what he considers pain to be.”  
  
Optimus looked at his companion and sighed inwardly.  _It's surprisingly easy to forget just how much of a ruthless_ ass _Megatron can be.  Being a human has curbed his ability to follow through on these desires, but...I do not know if he will make a good soldier or not.  He has an extreme distaste for authority, but is an exceptional fighter.  We shall see..._  
  
The sun steadily rose in the sky, and before long they were both sweating, Megatron swearing about the human cooling system and Optimus quietly agreeing.  It did seem horribly inefficient and ineffective. Their hunger eventually became too much to ignore, and both sat down to figure out the next bit of food they uncovered (something called Trail Mix).  Once again, the sensation of taste was glorious, and Optimus could tell Megatron enjoyed it as much as he—but was less demonstrative about it.   After their break ( _lunch? I think_ ), they continued walking, a surprisingly comfortable silence settling between them.  
  
–  
  
It was four days after they had become humans that they ran into their first group of other humans.  It was a surprise, and if Optimus hadn't put a hand on Megatron's shoulder to steady him, he was pretty sure the Decepticon would have attacked out of annoyance.  
  
“Sorry,” Optimus said.   
  
It was a group of three—two younger, teenaged females and a male chaperone of some sort.   
  
“We didn't expect to meet anyone on this trail,” the male said, obviously fascinated by the dichotomous pair before him.  Optimus, frankly, wasn't surprised.  He was sure he and Megatron made a rather unusual duo.   
  
“We got lost,” Optimus replied.   
  
“We were chased off of our campsite and lost the majority of our supplies,” Megatron added smoothly, surprising Optimus.   
  
_What's he playing at?_  
  
“Bears have been known to live in these woods,” one of the two females replied, apparently sympathetic.  “Sorry to hear about that.”  
  
Megatron shrugged delicately, giving her a small, wistful smile.  “It is fine.  We've been surviving.”  
  
Optimus's eyes narrowed slightly.  _What is he doing?_  
  
“However, if I may ask, do you have any supplies you might share?  My...companion...has been wandering without shoes and we could both use a solid meal—trail mix only extends so far.”  
  
Optimus barely kept the surprise from showing on his face.  _He's convincing them to share their supplies with us?_  
  
Optimus watched in amazement as Megatron charmed his way into getting them food and some money to buy Optimus new footwear.  He also acquired directions to the nearest town.  After a decent conversation, the group left them, and Optimus was finally free to express his utter incredulity.  
  
“How did you do that?  No, _why_ did you do that?” he asked, surprise lacing his voice.  
  
“You don't think I rose through the ranks just by brute-forcing it, do you?” Megatron drawled, counting the money and readjusting the new pack full of snacks and other materials that would help them survive to civilization.  
  
“That was the general assumption, yes,” Optimus said dryly.  
  
Megatron laughed.  “Oh, _please_.  I am not socially inept.  I am quite capable of twisting people to my will without having to punch them in the face.  Although that is _infinitely_ more satisfying.”  
  
Optimus sighed.   
  
The two started their trek again, this time finding the well-worn path that thousands of feet had formed.  
  
“I think we're doing pretty well, all things considered.  We've both at least _adapted_ to these bodies...”  
  
Megtron growled.  
  
“...and we're apparently capable of minimal human interaction.  I personally am looking forward to watching you attempt to survive in a city.”  
  
Megatron gave him a dark glare.  
  
“Have you figured out a last name yet?” Optimus asked.   
  
“I was thinking of Tron—since human last names seem to be completely nonsensical.”  
  
“Isn't that a little close?” Optimus asked.  
  
Megatron shrugged.  “Michael Tron.  How would the _normal_ human military—who shouldn't really know about Megatron at all—put it together?”  
  
Optimus sighed.  “You have a point.”  
  
“Of _course_ I do.”  
  
The two walked in silence again, and Optimus idly noted that he no longer felt every air current so acutely and was no longer overwhelmed by the scent of the grass crushed beneath their feet—although he was constantly amazed by the variety of tastes he could experience.   
  
In their travels, the two of them had found a wild blueberry bush and had taken a few—quite sweet, but with the oddest undertaste of sour.   
  
Megatron had hated them.  
  
“The length of my hair makes me appear feminine, doesn't it?” Megatron asked suddenly, breaking the silence.  
  
“It is...unusual for a male to have hair your length,” Optimus replied diplomatically.  
  
Megatron snorted and from the pack he drew a small red, cylindrical object.  He flipped it open to reveal a blade and gathered all his hair in his other hand.  He then sheered as much as he could off, replaced the blade, and found what Optimus recognized as a hair-tie and pulled back what remained of his hair in a ponytail.  “I will fix it better when I have a reflective surface,” Megatron stated and walked away from the pile of bright silver hair.   
  
Optimus looked between the hair and the departing Decepticon and sighed, catching up with him easily.  
  
It was then that Megatron started into a sprint.   
  
Optimus scowled before following after him.  
_  
I hate it when he does this.  I know that there is a point to it, but it's still frustrating.  He's faster than I, but I have more endurance than he._  
  
He always somehow seemed to know where Megatron was headed, where he had passed, and didn't really mind.  It made it easier to keep tabs on the Decepticon, just in case he decided to go AWOL and find ways to plague the human race as a human.  
_  
Primus knows they do it easily enough themselves._  
  
It took Megatron a little longer to tire this time, or perhaps he had simply pushed himself harder, for when Optimus finally caught up, the former Decepticon was breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his face, his shirt soaked through.   
  
Optimus was a little winded, but not half as much as the panting human before him.  
  
“Perhaps you should take it easier,” Optimus offered.  
  
Megatron shook his head sharply, sweat flicking off him at the motion.  “No.  I must get this body to be as strong as possible.”  
  
_Being the strongest still matters to him, even in a different form.  It's not a matter of purely holding power—it's also a matter of pride_ , Optimus thought, mildly amused.  
  
“Wipe that smile off your face,” Megatron growled, and Optimus blinked, not even aware he had been smiling.  
  
“Come.  I am starting to _stink_.  I need to get all this _filth_ off me.”  
  
Optimus smiled faintly as Megatron started off along the trail again before walking beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transformers is not mine.

“Remind me  _why_  are we doing this, Prime?”

  
“ _Because_ ,” Optimus panted as he climbed over a fallen tree-trunk, “ _you_  wanted to get stronger, and  _I_  wanted time to figure out our backgrounds.”

  
“Your,” Megatron paused as he scrambled to remain upright as he nearly tripped over a root, “desire is a stupid one.”

  
“It's prudent,” Optimus replied. “We need to be able to present a convincing front if asked questions.”

  
Megatron snorted. “I suppose,” he admitted reluctantly. “No need for us to be discovered before we get into that absurd Autobot/human team.” Megatron paused. “The truth also might result in us being committed to a mental institution, which I would like to avoid.”

  
“So. We come up with backgrounds,” Optimus said through heavy breaths.

  
The two new humans stopped to rest, each drenched in sweat, clothes sticking uncomfortably to their bodies.

  
Megatron stood in the shade of a nearby tree and glowered at his arms, which were becoming bright red. “This is obnoxious.”

  
Optimus couldn't restrain a smirk. “Can't take a little sun, Megatron?”

  
“Shut it, Prime,” Megatron snarled.

  
“We obviously know each other.”

  
“What?” Megatron asked, apparently briefly confused by the topic jump before connecting what Optimus was referring to. “Of  _course_ ,” he eventually drawled. “How else would you explain our thinly-veiled desire to tear each other apart?”

  
“ _How_  will we know each other, though?” Optimus mused.

  
“Rivals.  _Obviously_.”

  
Optimus's mouth twitched in a slight smile. “Obviously. Same town?”  
  
“Lived near each other, at least.”

  
Optimus nodded. “How do we explain our age, though? We're not exactly... _young._ ”

  
Megatron shrugged, unconcerned. “Will they ask?”

  
“Probably not...”

  
“There you go. Well, then, what are our  _reasons_  for enlisting?”

  
“ _Your_  answer is easy—rebellion.”

  
Megatron's lip curled in a slight snarl. “Very funny, Prime.” After a beat, a smirk formed on the Decepticon's face. “And  _you_ followed me into the military because you couldn't imagine a life without me.”

  
“ _WHAT_?! No!”

  
Megatron laughed, making Optimus frown. The Decepticon's laugh hadn't changed—it was still the same, with a feral, malignant edge to it that said he was laughing  _at_  the person unabashedly.

  
“Optimus, Optimus,” Megatron chided with a grin, “you are  _far_  too easy to rile.”

  
“Only  _you_  have ever managed that.”

  
“I know,” Megatron purred, obviously smug.

  
“Just do not forget—you were defeated by a young  _human_  and  _I've_  handed your ass to you any number of times.”

  
Which translated into, 'so while you might have the emotional upper-hand, I can still grind you into the dirt if I want to.'

_  
That_  caused Megatron to scowl.

  
The two started their hike again, Optimus looking at a map of the area (which they had discovered in the supplies they had been given). They had decided to take the  _very_  long way to the nearest point of civilization in order to be fully at ease with their bodies and work out exactly  _how_  they would find their place in their new world. It was... _difficult_...to get used to, being in a human body. Both of them still had trouble with balance, and having everything be suddenly so much larger, and... _flatter_ , in a manner...was unnerving.

  
The travel, aside from testing their new human bodies, also tested their patience with each other. It had been eons since they had more than conflict-contact, and each was reminded why it was so easy to be enemies with the other:

  
They  _hated_  each other.

  
That they were forced to deal with each other on a daily basis and not allowed to tear the other to shreds grated on both of them— running low on food, water, and rest may also have contributed to the mutual ire.

  
Although the scenery was occasionally quite breathtaking.

  
'If only I didn't have to deal with this  _pain_ ,' Optimus grumbled inwardly, shooting a covert glare at Megatron, who was resting in the shade of a nearby tree, growling and cursing about the frailty of his body.

  
“You don't seem to be having the same trouble with the sun I am,” Megatron grumbled, glaring at the pigmentation of Optimus's skin.

  
“I think you might be an albino,” Optimus replied.

  
Megatron blinked. “A what?”

  
“An albino. You don't have the same kind of pigmentation all other humans do, which makes you susceptible to ailments like sunburn—which is what the painful phenomena of your skin becoming bright red is called.”

  
Megatron gave his body a look of extreme distaste.

  
“Look, that doesn't matter. We have to keep moving.”

  
Megatron huffed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit that Optimus found amusing. It seemed there were a few human habits Megatron picked up instinctively. The Decepticon grumbled a few more uncomplimentary things but started walking anyway, Optimus falling quickly into step beside him.

  
“How do they  _survive_  in these?” Megatron grumbled as he idly picked at his peeling skin.

  
“They are a resourceful race,” Optimus stated as he set his feet carefully. They were walking along particularly treacherous terrain, and Optimus had no desire to plummet to his death over the nearby ridge.

  
Megatron, of course, seemed to disregard his own safety in favor of progress—something about him that hadn't changed over the eons. He blazed a trail forward, never bothering to chart a course of least resistance—whatever got him to his goal fastest was obviously the best way.

  
'Such impulsiveness and pride was what always got him in trouble.'

  
It was no less true as a human.

  
Optimus watched Megatron teeter as he stepped down awkwardly on a rock. There was a moment of breathless anticipation before Megatron began falling over the side of the ridge they were walking along.

  
Optimus reacted without thinking, lunging forward and grabbing Megatron's hand, his own arm screaming in pain as Megatron's weight pulled at it. He scrambled for a brace, and just barely kept himself from falling over with Megatron.

  
For a moment, their eyes locked.

  
'You could let go and no-one would hold it against you,' came the thought, unbidden, into Optimus's mind. 'Look at him—he almost expects you to.'

  
Optimus inwardly shook himself. 'No. That's a very Decepticon thing to do, and while I am many things, I am most  _definitely_  not a Decepticon.' He found a better foothold and clasped his other, free hand on Megatron's arm and pulled him up until Megatron found hand- and footholds, the Decepticon pulling himself up the rest of the way. They were both panting slightly as they regarded the other.

  
Megatron gave him a wry smirk. “I would have let you fall.”

  
“And that is why  _you_  are a Decepticon and  _I_  am an Autobot.”

  
Megatron snorted and shook his head. “Your heroics will doom you one day,” he told Optimus, brushing off the dirt that had accumulated on his shirt and pants.

  
Optimus sighed softly before staring ahead. “Walk where I do—you won't fall that way.”

  
“You  _dare_  to—”

  
“Do you want to die before you get your revenge on Starscream?”

_  
That_  quieted the Decepticon, although it did nothing to subdue the glare he was receiving.

  
The heat and exertion eventually got to them around midday, making them take a brief rest under a scraggly tree.

  
“So, which branch shall we join?” Megatron asked.

  
“Pardon?”

  
“There are multiple sections to this country's military—I have found out  _that_  much. A sea-faring one, a flying squadron, a land-based one.”

  
“The Navy, Air Force, and Army,” Optimus supplied. “There are also the Coast Guards, who are sea-faring, in a manner, and the Marines.”

  
“What do the Marines do?”

  
“I'm not sure. Specialists? I have had minimal interaction with them—they are not often recruited to NEST.”

  
“Why not?”

  
Optimus shrugged. “I assume it is bureaucratic.”

  
Megatron snorted. “Whatever. Which does NEST draw from most heavily?”

  
“I believe it's officially a branch of the Army.”

  
“Then we enlist in the Army.”

  
“If we  _can._  I'm not sure of the process—which is one of the many things we have to investigate when we get to a city.”

  
Megatron growled. “I do not  _want_  to learn how to be these creatures...but it appears I have little choice in the matter if I want to rend Starscream into scrap metal.”

  
Optimus suppressed a smile. “Don't sound so put-out. As humans would say, 'know thine enemy'.”

  
“Are you suggesting that learning how to be a human will teach me how to defeat them and claim dominance?”  
  
“Whatever will make you cooperative.”

  
Megatron snarled.

  
Optimus sighed. “We must work on your temper.”

  
Megatron gave the Autobot a dark glare which Optimus shrugged off.

  
They began walking together again, Optimus taking the lead, Megatron following closely behind. A headache was slowly growing behind Optimus's eyes, a soft, low buzz permeating his mind along with the pain.

  
“Megatron, will you  _stop_  grumbling,” Optimus said perhaps a little more sharply than he intended.

  
“I am saying  _nothing_ , Prime,” Megatron replied equally sharply. Optimus stopped and turned, his eyes catching Megatron's, sapphire staring into ruby.

  
“Then stop  _thinking_  so loudly—it's giving me a headache.”

  
“How would  _you_  be able to hear  _my_  thoughts?”

  
“It's a human expression for when a person is so obviously involved in their own thoughts that an observer can almost  _hear_  them think.”  
Megatron snorted and shook his head. “You have spent too much time around the base creatures.” There was a pause before Megatron scowled. “I am  _tired_  of being hungry and exhausted. This is  _stupid_!”

  
“And was in part your idea..and primarily  _your fault_.”

  
Megatron growled in warning.

  
Optimus turned on his heel and continued to make his way cautiously forward, finding good hand- and foot-holds so that neither of them courted gravity again.

  
It was strange, how he didn't feel too concerned about having Megatron at his back. The Decepticon was self-serving and manipulative enough to recognize when he needed someone to help bring his plans to fruition, and killing Optimus would render his chances at revenge exceedingly slim.

  
“You have spent time with these beasts.”

  
“I have,” Optimus replied, curious as to where  _this_  particular line of inquiry was going.

  
“What exactly is...routine behavior for them? Habits that the entire plague shares?”

  
Optimus sighed. “Well...they  _try_  to keep clean. They have specific areas for excreting waste—bathrooms. They  _shower_ daily. Well, mostly.  When available...”

  
As they walked, Optimus slowly described everything he remembered about life at the NEST base as well as what he had gleaned from Bumblebee's descriptions of Sam's life. Sleeping, clothing, eating, cleanliness, living arrangements, jobs, families, schedules, legality of actions (“That means that you aren't allowed to maim someone just because they annoy you.” “Pity.”), government, recreation...

  
“They're also very... _gender_  oriented,” Optimus said, catching his breath as they looked out over a beautiful landscape.

  
“Oh?” Megatron asked from his station underneath a very shady tree.

  
“You and I were both assigned the  _male_  human gender...and there are certain behavioral expectations as well as social prejudices and norms that are specific to males— _men_. You will be glad to know that in most human societies the male carries more power than the female.”

  
Megatron's eyebrows rose slightly and a smirk formed on his face. “So it will be easier for me to accrue power and influence?”

  
“Unfortunately.”

  
Megatron chuckled darkly. “Mm-hm,” he murmured, scratching at a bug bite on his arm. “So, tell me, Prime—what do you know of the history of this virus, not to mention current events?”

  
“Why so curious?”

  
“Prime, if I want to survive, we can't go into this completely uninformed.”

  
“I think you just like learning something new, something beyond your former realm of experience.”

  
Megatron snarled. “Do not presume to understand me. I am not the Cybertronian that you remember, and you should do well to realize that—after all, would the former me have stabbed you in the back?”

  
Optimus felt a chill go through him as he realized that Megatron was  _behind_  him and had that pocket knife...but something told him that he didn't have to worry about Megatron killing him.

  
Yet.

  
Still...he had a point.

  
“I...do not know as much as I feel I should, but I can tell you what I  _do_  know, and we can look up the rest of it in a library.”

  
“A place where they keep their learning, correct?”

  
“In a number of forms—books, magazines, and electronic media.”

  
Megatron made a noncommittal sound. “So, just how old  _are_  these creatures?”

  
“Not very...”

  
Optimus gave a general description of what he remembered, but focused primarily on the time since they discovered electricity and developed indoor plumbing (“Since that was the point after which the human population exploded and extended people's lifespan to the point where they could come up with the technology they have now.” “Filthy creatures.” “ _Megatron..._ ”).

  
Silence fell once Optimus finished speaking, Megatron obviously thinking quite hard, turning over all the new information he had gained in his mind. For a long time, the only sounds as they walked were the calls of birds, the buzz of cicadas, and their own harsh breathing.

  
Optimus found little comfort in the beauty of his surroundings, however.

  
'I can't  _believe_  that I'm traveling with my former enemy and long-time rival. What is even  _harder_  to comprehend is that I'm  _human_!' The whole absurdity of the situation was finally setting in and Optimus found himself suppressing a slightly-panicked chuckle. Optimus Prime  _didn't_  panic—but, then again,  _was_  he really Optimus Prime anymore? Optimus Prime was a  _Cybertronian_   _Autobot_. Not a man of apparently African heritage.

  
'We will have to make pasts for ourselves—not just stories, but medical records, social security numbers, birth certificates, home addresses, e-mail addresses, phone numbers...Primus, how are we going to  _do_  this?'

  
“What is that sound?” Megatron asked, interrupting Optimus's musings.

  
“What?” he asked and tilted his head slightly, listening. It took a moment before he finally placed the sound: “That's running water,” he stated, “which means we can wash off our accumulated grime  _if_  it's clean.”

  
“ _If_  it's clean?”

  
“Not all water is. But...I believe this area's lakes and rivers are made of glacial melt, so while the water will be  _cold_ , it will most likely be clean.”

  
“You hope.”

  
“Well, yes.”

  
“By the way,  _how_  cold are we talking?” Megatron asked casually, but Optimus could detect a tinge of tension.

  
“Not cold enough to incapacitate you,” Optimus replied. He knew why Megatron asked, and from the angry glare he was getting from the Decepticon, he could tell that Megatron didn't appreciate the understanding.

  
“Let's get there, then. I dislike this  _stench_  radiating off me.”

  
Optimus continued to lead the way, and within a half-hour they found the source of the running water—a small river. Optimus walked over to it and wished he had his sensors to tell him whether or not the water was clean.

  
Apparently, it mattered little to his companion, for once Megatron determined he could see all the way to the bottom and had chased away all the fish and other wildlife, he stripped and stepped in.

  
Before yelping and retreating. “That isn't a  _little_  cold, that is  _very_  cold!” Megatron growled and glared at Optimus.

  
Optimus merely shrugged. “How was I to know?”

  
Megatron grumbled some uncomplimentary things about the Autobot before slowly walking into the stream, shivering as he used the water to wash the accumulated grime off of him, making the water that flowed away from him slightly brown.

  
Optimus found himself strangely reluctant to strip and join the Decepticon, but from how Megatron's skin was becoming a brighter shade of red—meaning that anything that had been clinging to it had been washed off—he felt he should wash as well. He stripped and put his clothes next to Megatron's before entering the water himself, the chill sending painful shivers up his legs and into the rest of his body.

  
“ _Primus_ ,” Optimus swore softly and began to rinse the dirt from his skin. “You were right when you said it was cold.”

  
“I make no claim to be your supposed creator, but I'm glad you acknowledge that I was right,” Megatron said rather smugly.

  
“Quiet,” Optimus growled and flicked water at Megatron, who scowled and splashed back at Optimus.

  
Optimus sputtered as the water hit him in the face and glared at the Decepticon, who gave him a rather toothy grin.

  
Optimus reached out and shoved Megatron, making him teeter unsteadily and land in the water, creating a large splash. Megatron surfaced, he growling, eyes narrowed as he looked through a curtain of silver hair.

  
The Decepticon recovered quickly and lunged at Optimus, pushing him down into the water. Optimus held his breath and pushed Megatron off him, who was still glaring at him from his spot in the water, but it was slightly less fierce than it had been. The interaction deteriorated into a splashing and dunking war, until both of them were too exhausted to continue trying to best the other.

  
“Do you  _always_  have to have the last word?” Optimus grumbled, glowering at the Decepticon as he tried to shake water out of his ear.

  
“You tell me, Prime,” Megatron drawled and walked to the bank, taking a handful of hair and wringing the water out of it, growling uncomplimentary things about it. “Since I cut it it has regrown to its original length!” he lamented before walking out of the water and picking up his clothes. He looked at them in mild disgust before going back to the water and attempting to scrub the grime off of them.

  
If anything, the water became even dirtier as a result of that. Optimus frowned and picked up his own clothes and began to wash them—he hated mimicking Megatron, but the Decepticon  _did_  have the occasional good idea.

  
Once the clothes were as clean as they could make them, the two of them set them out to dry in a shaft of sunlight, only wearing undergarments as they waited. There was a short silence that was broken by Megatron saying: “Prime.”

  
“What?”

  
“You  _do_  realize the absurdity of this entire situation, don't you?”

  
“It  _has_  dawned on me, yes,” Optimus replied dryly.

  
Megatron gave him a fleeting smirk before his face fell into a more contemplative expression. “How long do you think it will take to get what we need?”

  
Optimus sighed and rubbed his short hair, looking at the running water before them. “I don't know,” he answered quietly.

  
Megatron snorted and shook his head. “Thought so.”

_  
But I wonder if, when we finally achieve our aims, we will still be Megatron and Optimus Prime...?_

  
“Good question,” Optimus murmured.

  
“What?” Megatron asked sharply, looking over at Optimus.

  
Optimus raised an eyebrow, “You had a good question—whether or not, when we finally achieve what we need to in order to return to our selves, if we will still be who we are.”

  
Megatron frowned. “I never said that.”

  
Optimus gave him an incredulous look. “Yes, you did—I heard it.”

  
Megatron's face closed off for a moment before a look of disgusted astonishment flashed across it. “There is no way you could have heard that question—”  _Not unless you can hear my thoughts...?_

  
There was a beat of utter, shocked silence before revulsion slowly crept through Optimus's being.  _Impossible._

_  
Apparently not._

_  
You_ do _know what this means...?_

_  
To my utter horror, yes._

  
Optimus's shoulders slumped as his head found its way into his hands.  _How is it even_ possible?

_  
I don't know, but it's just another reason to tear Starscream apart when I finally corner him._

  
Optimus couldn't agree more—it was one thing, being human.  _That_  was something he could deal with. But being connected to  _Megatron—_ of all creatures!—on an intimate level...well, that was less easily forgiven.

  
Sure, mental connections were not uncommon—Decepticons and Autobots both had their own frequencies that they communicated over—but it was more akin to human walkie-talkies than true telepathy. Each Cybertronian had their own personal frequency that fell in the spectrum of their respective chosen side with which they could communicate over, either en masse or individually. It required focus, but it was doable. Something such as what Megatron and he shared—something close to  _true_  telepathy—was an entirely different matter. It was a byproduct of literally sharing a part of one's Self with another. Because each contained an integral part of the other, they shared a connection far deeper than any radio frequency.   
  
What they had forced upon them was uncommon for any  _romantically_  involved individuals, exclusive or not, to share something so fundamental, for, if one of the pair died or was separated and out of touch from the other, the surviving one was likely to go insane or die themselves. There were other, less invasive ways of declaring your relationship to another, and most opted for what was generally called spark-binding. What he and Megatron shared was different from a spark-binding in a few important ways, although the general phenomena was the same.

  
The main difference being that a spark-bound couple was able to survive the death of one of the members, as the part that was shared by the couple could be returned to the giver upon death of the recipient. What  _they_  had somehow acquired...well, Optimus was  _literally_  half-Megatron. If  _Megatron_  died, half of Optimus went with him, which was an incredibly disturbing and distressing thought. To keep  _himself_  alive, he now needed to make sure that  _Megatron_  also stayed among the living.

  
So now, no matter what they had wanted, they were bound to each other, body, mind, and soul...and absolutely  _hated_ each other.

  
Optimus heavily shielded his thoughts, now aware of what exactly that soft buzzing had been—their connection. As long as he blocked it and guarded against it, his thoughts would remain his, just as the opposite would be true for Megatron. Nonetheless, the situation was in general distasteful, and it didn't take reading Megatron's thoughts to tell that the Decepticon was equally revolted by it.

  
'As if the situation wasn't bad enough already...'

  
–

  
Optimus was barely able to suppress a snicker at the completely mystified look on Megatron's face as he was fussed over by the group they had come across in their travels. The two of them had been weak from exhaustion and lack of food and water, and had propped up against a tree, half-conscious in an attempt to conserve energy and resources. Both had been woken by a cry of surprise. There was a brief argument that neither of them entirely processed, but when Optimus found himself being resuscitated with water, he would have done anything in thanks. Instead, he had found both he and the Decepticon being mothered by a group of females that had run across them.

  
Megatron's exotic looks and obviously painful sunburn had earned him a good deal of sympathy, and while he was overwhelmed by positive female attention, his reflexive charisma—even when out of it—had earned them a seat at a campsite, food, and new shirts, even if other articles of clothing could not be spared (Optimus was also relieved to have acquired sandals—while his feet had toughened as a result of walking mostly barefoot, it helped ease the cuts and blisters). Megatron also found himself being slathered alternatively in something called aloe vera, which one of the females insisted would help with the sunburn, and sunscreen, which might prevent said sunburn from getting any worse.

  
“How in the world did you end up like this?” one of the females ('Sarah?') asked.

  
Optimus shrugged sheepishly. “Well...you wouldn't believe me.”

  
“No, go on. Tell me,” the woman insisted as Optimus drank some more  _wonderful_  water.

_  
Dehydration is such an issue._

  
Optimus must not have shielded his thoughts as well as he would have liked, for Megatron replied to his statement:  _Tell me about it—could you get these_ creatures _off of me?!_

_  
No._

  
“Well...have there been any news reports of strange activity?”

  
“There  _was_  a story of a wildfire...oh, did you get caught in that?”  
  
“Yeah,” Optimus replied with a weary smile.  _I suppose that accounts for the damage from our weaponry._

_  
Possibly. Optimus,_ stop them!

_  
Stop them yourself._

_  
You think I haven't been_ trying?

  
“We lost everything in the fire—supplies, clothes, you know, the things you need to survive,” Optimus continued fluidly, the internal conversation having taken mere seconds.

  
“I'm sorry to hear that.”

  
“We've had someone else help us, though, which is what accounts for our clothes and that backpack. But...charity only extends so far.”

  
“How'd you guys  _meet_? You're so... _different._ ”

  
“Kim! Don't ask questions like that.”

  
Megatron rolled his eyes. “It's a valid question. We've just...always known each other.”

  
“So, you guys're friends?”

  
Megatron was about to respond in the negative, but Optimus cut in, saying, “In a manner of speaking. We were actually with our families, who  _are_  friends, but...”

  
“We survived and they didn't,” Megatron chipped in with a flat tone.

_  
Why'd you say_ that _?_

_  
Pity,_  Megatron said smugly.  _They'll be even more willing to help us now. It's the strangest reaction..._

  
Optimus was astonished to find that Megatron had been right, and that the group fussed all the more after that proclamation.

  
By the time the sun went down, the Cybertronians had been given places at their campsite, which both gratefully took—it meant that they didn't have to worry so much about wild animals or their counterpart doing something to them as they slept.

  
Optimus settled against a tree, a light blanket covering his legs, and he sighed heavily as his body began to relax. He and Megatron had been lucky so far, finding two groups of people who were willing to help them. Optimus figured that they looked pathetic and earnest enough that people didn't see them as robbers or some such nonsense.

  
Even though, in a sense, they were, since they  _had_  technically stolen from that first campsite...

_  
How do you know what you do about humans?_  Optimus asked his forced traveling partner now that he had time, Megatron's random bouts of insight confusing him.

_  
Prime, what else do you think I had to do during all those years?_

_  
What?_

_  
After the ancestor of that_ brat _partially woke me, I was dragged into a human laboratory—I wasn't entirely conscious, but enough that I could get bored. Whenever I was awake enough to be that way, I would observe what was going on around me, listen to the stories the workers told, began to listen to the radio once the overgrown bacteria got that down. Wireless internet was the most fascinating thing, however._

_  
You kept yourself entertained, hm?_

_  
It was sporadic, but you tell me what_ you _would do if you were in a forced semi-stasis for far too long._

_  
Why did you ask me so much about humanity, then?_

_  
I told you—I was only_ partly _aware. I picked up bits and pieces, not the comprehensive knowledge that I need to be able to survive as one of the fleshlings._

  
Optimus made a soft noncommittal sound.  _I suppose that makes sense...for a Decepticon._

  
Megatron obviously rolled his softly-glowing garnet eyes. There was a surprisingly easy silence as they both watched the stars through the heavy canopy of leaves.

  
'I must admit, I never expected something like this to happen when I first came searching for the All-Spark,' Optimus thought to himself, exasperated. 'Although I have to wonder what exactly Starscream used to transform us in this manner. It was certainly not a human weapon, and I haven't heard of a Cybertronian weapon that would create such an effect.  _How_ do Decepticons manage to  _find_  such damaging things?'

  
Optimus's eyes slowly drifted close, his mind slowing down, breathing evening, he descending gradually into sleep.

  
–

  
Optimus rubbed his temples, azure eyes glowing faintly as he nursed a wounded body, warily watching Megatron do the same.

  
There were very few things in the universe that made Optimus angry. Unfortunately for his sanity, he was stuck with one of them.

  
That he made Megatron equally unhappy was little balm for his spark. Soul. Whatever he currently had that contained who he was.

  
After a eleven days in the company of the Decepticon, Optimus's temper was frayed to the breaking point. Neither he nor Megatron dared to speak to each other anymore, for any conversation inevitably turned into a verbal spar that left them both seething and itching to pound the other's face in. Thankfully, things hadn't  _yet_ come to blows, but it was almost inevitable that it would eventually.

  
Of course, it was over something  _incredibly_  inane, but why shouldn't that have been the case?

  
Optimus stubbed his toe on a rock.

  
Megatron laughed at him.

  
Suddenly, Optimus found himself pinning the surprised Decepticon to the ground, his own fist raised back to punch.

  
This time, unlike during their brief splash war in the river, his aim wasn't off—he caught Megatron square in the face.

  
Megatron's head snapped to the side, following the force of Optimus's blow, a little bit of spittle and blood exiting Megatron's lips. Optimus raised his other hand to punch, but Megatron just barely intercepted the blow in time. Megatron used his free hand to catch Optimus in the gut, making Optimus grunt in pain and double over, forehead nearly touching Megatron's.

  
Optimus felt himself shoved off of his perch on Megatron's torso, Megatron scrambling to a standing position in time to kick Optimus in the side, making Optimus grimace. The next kick Optimus rolled away from, he getting onto his knees in time to block another kick with his forearms and shove Megatron off-balance long enough to get his own feet under him.

  
The two of them circled each other carefully, watching their opponent warily. Both of them  _knew_  how the other fought, but being  _human_  had changed things.

  
Optimus was distantly surprised at how fast Megatron moved, but was also surprised at how easily he himself absorbed the hits Megatron landed on him. He could tell from how Megatron winced that his reposes hurt significantly more.

  
The odd thing was that  _he_  also felt every hit  _he_  landed on  _Megatron_ , although significantly weaker. He wondered if Megatron was finding the same thing to be true, and, if so, if this was another side-effect of their unfortunate connection.

  
Megatron ducked under a punch from Optimus and caught the Autobot leader under the chin with an uppercut, making Optimus stagger. Megatron followed up the attack with a kick that sent Optimus into a nearby tree. The Autobot shook off the dazed feeling in time to avoid another attack from Megatron, which left the Decepticon open to a counterattack.

  
Optimus grabbed the long locks of Megatron's hair and pulled on it, causing the Decepticon to fall back towards him with a cry of surprise and pain. Optimus used the surprise and the leverage to dig his knee into Megatron's back, causing the man to arch up. Optimus moved his leg and then slammed the palm of his hand into Megatron's sternum, sending him to the forest floor, breathless and down for the count.

  
Dazed, angry ruby eyes stared up into equally irate sapphire ones. For a long moment, the two simply looked at each other before Optimus's legs gave out from under him and he found himself sitting not too far from Megatron, his entire body aching from the combined hurts of what Megatron had landed on him and echoes of the opposite.

  
“You feel it, don't you?” Megatron whispered hoarsely once he got his voice back.

  
“What?”

  
“ _My_  pains. You feel them.”

  
Optimus nodded mutely.

  
Megatron swore.

  
Which lead to their current position, each lost in his own thoughts as they separately pondered the ramifications of the intensity of their bond.

  
“ _How_?” Megatron whispered aloud.

  
“The better question is  _why_ ,” Optimus replied wryly.

  
Megatron snorted and winced at the movement. “ _That_  is easier—the universe has something against me. First I'm stuck on this  _rock_ , frozen for centuries until discovered by that brat's ancestor.  _Then_  I'm brought into a lab and forced to remain in semi-stasis while human scientists poke and prod at me, trying to divine my inner workings.  _Then_  I am killed and dropped into the deepest part of this planet's oceans. I'm resurrected through your faulty security and I  _finally_  manage to rid the universe of you and then that selfsame brat manages to find a way to undo all my hard work!  _Now_  I am here, stuck in this forsaken organic  _coffin_  while being bound to you.” Megatron paused. “No. I'm not  _bound_  to you. Spark-binding is different, is not this intense. What is this...?”

  
Optimus shrugged helplessly. “The only one-word description is in Cybertronian and I cannot pronounce it using the human vocal system...”

  
Megatron growled and shook his head, muttering uncomplimentary things about humans, Autobots, and Optimus, which Optimus ignored. “You know what this is, though,” Megatron said, almost accusingly, as if it was Optimus's fault that they ended up like they were.

  
Optimus's eyes narrowed. “I know  _of_  it. I have only heard of a few cases of it. Most do not choose to become... _bound_  really is the best word in the English language...in this manner.”

  
“What does it  _mean_ , Prime? Stop stalling.”

  
Optimus growled a warning, which inexplicably made Megatron smirk.

  
'Decepticons are  _so_  strange,' Optimus grumbled inwardly. “You will like it even less than I,” he said aloud.

  
Megatron cocked an eyebrow.

  
Optimus sighed. “Very well. We will  _always_  be conscious of the other—I will know where you are, what you are feeling, who you are with, what you are doing, and, if you do not shield correctly, what you are thinking. There is  _no_  option of being involved with someone else—faithfulness to me is assured, as the opposite is true. I am  _literally_  a part of you, physically and psychically. When you are hurt, I am hurt, and vice versa. We are capable of communicating with the strange telepathy we have acquired regardless of the distance—we could be on opposite sides of the world and still be in touch, as fast as thought.” Optimus sighed. “Also, since we are so closely linked, it is... _inadvisable_...to be out of contact—physical and/or mental—for overlong. You run the risk of insanity if you do that. And if one of us dies...”

  
“The other will either die as well or go mad,” Megatron finished flatly.

  
Optimus nodded glumly.

  
It was  _truly_  hateful, being so closely linked with his enemy. It would have been unwise to have what they were dealing with to someone on their  _own_  side—to do so to an opponent was  _unthinkable._  Now Optimus found himself in that exact situation, he sharing half of his Self with his long-standing rival and antagonist.

  
“There is no way to break this,” Megatron stated more than asked.

  
“Not without one or both of us dying.”

  
Megatron scowled up the sky, arms crossing over his chest. “ _Why_  is my luck so  _poor_?”

  
“I wish I knew,” Optimus replied wryly, which transfered Megatron's glare from the heavens to him.

  
There was a long silence before Megatron sat up gingerly, rubbing his neck in pain. “I will find a way around this. I refuse to be linked with you in this manner.”

  
“If you find a way, I look forward to ridding myself of you, too,” Optimus replied, standing slowly.

  
Megatron heaved himself to his feet, his arms windmilling for a moment before he found his balance.

  
“Come,” the Decepticon growled. “The sooner I can release myself from this  _ridiculous_  predicament the better.”

  
Optimus watched Megatron stalk off and followed him at a more leisurely pace.

  
\--

It took them about two weeks to get to the small outpost of a town near where Sam and his family had decided to go camping, the two having resigned themselves to being stuck with the other after their confrontation.

  
“At least there will be a place to rest that isn't the ground,” Megatron groused as they walked down the street.

  
“With all the money we don't have,” Optimus drawled, although he silently agreed. His back was one mass of pain from sleeping on the ground with no protection, and he was looking forward to experiencing a bed.

  
Megatron hissed his displeasure while glaring at Optimus.

  
“There are other things we have to worry about, first,” Optimus told his companion.

  
“Oh?” Megatron asked, incredulous.

  
“Clothing, specifically.  _Then_  we can find a place to rest.”

  
“Why does  _that_  matter more?”

  
“Because we look terrible and no place will give us lodging or food if we appear this way.”

  
“That's incredibly superficial.”

  
Optimus shrugged. “A failing of the race, but nothing major.”

  
The two walked in silence, Optimus idly noting that they  _were_  getting pretty bad stares.

_  
See why I think we need new clothes? People won't look twice at us, then._

  
Megatron merely made a noise of acknowledgement.

  
Optimus eventually found what he was looking for and nudged Megatron towards the shop.

_  
This will have what we need,_  Optimus told the Decepticon.

_  
What is this place?_  Megatron asked, obviously curious in spite of himself once they had entered.

_  
A consignment shop. We should be able to get clothes on our..._ limited _...resources here._

  
Megatron gave Optimus an utterly incredulous look.  _If you say so. How do we know what will fit us?_

_  
Trial and error?_  Optimus replied and went over to a rack that was clearly marked 'men'.

  
Trial and error it ended up being, as they wrestled with sizes and numbers until they found what would fit them, earning more than a few odd looks as they struggled. Optimus wasn't quite sure how people explained their behavior away, but from how no-one actually  _said_  anything, Optimus didn't bother to think on it too much.

  
As it was, he was  _fascinated_  by the different textures of clothing. Some were soft, others were rough, and a great many had textures he was incapable of describing because, well, he might  _know_  the human words, but because he didn't know what they represented, that was all they were to him—words. The lengths and cuts and colors, and how they were combined and interacted, were all equally fascinating

  
Eventually, Megatron decided on a few lightweight, long-sleeve tops (“I refuse to walk around with this shell visibly flaking off of me.”) and equally light-weight, long pants, most in solid colors—although black looked the most striking on him, for obvious reasons. He also bought a baseball cap to keep the sun off of his face, and to perhaps hide his striking garnet-colored eyes.

  
Optimus found himself leaning more towards patterns and designs on the shirts that he picked out, and was partial to jeans of varying lengths and weights.

  
Underwear and socks were also acquired when they stopped by a CVS, as well as a few other items necessary for their well-being and acceptance into society. However, the greatest amount of time was spent in the food aisle.

_  
What_ is _all this?_  Megatron asked, slightly astonished.  _Can they eat_ all _of this?_

_  
It's not a_ good _idea, but theoretically, they can eat most of this stuff._

_  
Fascinating..._ Megatron murmured and picked out a package labeled 'popcorn'.

  
In the end, Optimus had to drag Megatron out of the snack food aisle.  _All that stuff isn't good for you._

_  
But it's_ cheap _and looks...interesting_ , Megatron protested.

_  
We can find cheap, interesting,_ healthy _stuff elsewhere._

  
Megatron scowled as he waited for Optimus to pay for everything that they had decided to buy. They exited the store and both sighed in unison before giving the other a glare.

  
“Where now, Prime?” Megatron drawled, obviously annoyed.

  
“Don't call me that aloud,” Optimus growled quietly.

  
Megatron rolled his eyes.

  
“For now, I think we need to find temporary lodging so we can clean up and change into the new clothes we bought.”

  
“ _Cheap_  temporary lodging, correct? So, a motel or something?”

  
Optimus nodded, again filing away the random bouts of information Megatron seemed to have for later pondering.

  
The two of them meandered until they found a rather sketchy-looking affair that was cheap and asked no questions, which was a small relief. The room was small, cramped, and dark, but after sleeping on the ground, the beds felt like heaven. They both collapsed on the separate beds and were out like lights.

  
Optimus woke a few hours later and stretched, every ache in his back screaming for his attention, making him wince. He heard the tiny shower in the dirty bathroom running and smirked faintly. Megatron had obviously woken before him and was washing himself using the cleaning supplies they had bought.

  
Optimus looked up at the ceiling, his hands laced together over his chest.

  
It was funny, thinking that he had been  _human_  for two weeks. He was personally surprised that he had survived this long at all—if the situation had been posed to him when he was still Cybertronian, he would have bet that he wouldn't have lasted a week, let alone this long with  _Megatron._

  
Perhaps it was  _because_  of Megatron that he was still alive. Afterall, neither of them wanted to appear weak in front of the other, and dying before the other had a chance to kill them would have been disgraceful  _and_  distasteful. So they both pushed themselves to the limit of their newfound bodies, figuring out all the nuts and bolts that humans tended to grow up with. It was a small blessing that they had both, to an extent, lived  _with_  them, and so weren't starting entirely from scratch.

  
'Nonetheless, there is  _so much_  to learn. We know the basics, but very little else.'

  
At that moment, Megatron walked out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, fully clothed. “You can make it  _warm,_ ” Megatron murmured and picked up a small device that was resting next to their obviously run-down television before he plopped down on his bed.

  
Optimus figured that was as much recognition of his wakefulness he would get, and pushed himself to his feet, picking out an outfit for himself before entering the bathroom. The set-up was nothing particularly elegant, but Optimus wasn't about to be picky. There was a sink, a toilet, and a shower/bathtub combination. The slightly-cracked mirror was still misted over from when Megatron had taken his shower and the shower-head was dripping sporadically. Optimus regarded everything before him before sighing and stripping himself of the torn, dirty, abused garments that had been his covering for the past fortnight.

  
He gingerly stepped into the basin of the bath and discovered what Megatron's comment meant when he fiddled with the knobs set into the wall, which, when turned, caused water to come out of the shower-head above him. He jumped in surprise when the water first fell on him from above, but as his body slowly relaxed under the unsteady torrent of water, he came to appreciate hot water.

  
He stood for a long moment before picking up what they had eventually decided was used to clean the patch of overgrown fur on their skulls and looking at it. He turned it over and read the directions on the back, and made a mental note not to get it in his eyes or mouth. With the hand that was holding the bottle, he turned it over and squeezed a small dollop into the palm of the other, before carefully setting down the bottle. He looked at the viscous liquid resting in his palm before bringing it carefully up to his head and using  _that_  hand as well as the other to rub it into his scalp. He was surprised when he felt the texture change into something more...more...there was no Cybertronian word for the sensation, for they did not feel in the way humans did—much as they could not taste as humans did. Sure, they could see and hear and sense things no human ever could, but there was something to be said about  _feeling_  shampoo turn to suds as it interacted with friction and hot water.

  
He let the water rinse the shampoo from his short, wiry, oddly-colored hair, watching as it traced patterns down his body. Since that first day of adapting, he hadn't really taken the time to observe his own physicality, and now that he had a moment where he didn't feel that he had to watch his back constantly, he did. As far as he could tell, he was of muscular build, and from how close he was to the shower-head, it meant that he was probably taller than average. He knew already that his coloration was far from normal—typical african-heritage coloration was all shades of brown—but he had hoped his height wouldn't be another distinguishing trait. He already stood out as it was. Megatron was perhaps even worse, with his silver and red coloring. He was fairly sure that they made quite the sight, as out of place with each other as in society.

  
He picked up the poof—he  _believed_  that was what it was called—with one hand and used the other to pick up the body wash they had bought. It was a little harder to manipulate, but Optimus was proud when he didn't drop anything. He rubbed the liquid into the poof and found himself smiling as it sudded up. He heated slightly in embarrassment, even though no-one was around to see. He would have to learn to take such things for granted, but for now...

  
His sense of balance was unfamiliar with what he was doing, especially when he went to wash his lower legs while standing. He had to brace one hand on the wall to get himself entirely clean, grumbling quietly about how he  _still_  hadn't figured out balance entirely.

  
As he cleaned his genitalia a spike of...of... _something_  raced through him, making him jerk in surprise. It wasn't a  _bad_ feeling, but, again, clearly different from anything he had ever felt while a Cybertronian.

  
'It hadn't felt like that when simply—oh, what's the word?—peeing. But, at those times, the contact was never  _extended_...'

  
Optimus had the gut feeling that he was treading into dangerous, entirely unknown waters, and it was unnerving. He hadn't gotten where he was by being careful, though, so he felt it was something to be explored, if cautiously.  _This_  was yet another example of how different human and Cybertronian bodies could be, even though they appeared superficially similar.

  
Optimus thought for a long moment, fingers ghosting down the length of his penis, sending small shivers of...what  _was_  the word for this sensation?... _something_  through his body. As he had listened to the male soldiers, he remembered a lot of crude talk had revolved around their genitalia, whether from jokes or otherwise was unimportant.

  
He also knew a great deal about the biology and function of the male reproductive system, but it was all academic. It had no application to him, so while he had filed it away as information, he hadn't bothered to give it a second thought.

  
Now he wished he still had the limitless data retention of his former body, if just so he could  _review_  what he had discovered, remember the conversations.

  
'Again, driving blind,' he thought morosely.

  
He shivered involuntarily when a particularly strong flush of the sensation curled through him, and he reinforced the barriers between he and Megatron, not wanting the Decepticon to ask questions he didn't feel like answering.

  
He became aware of a change in the particular part of his newfound anatomy that he was exploring that accompanied the lazy swirls of sensation. It was lengthening and darkening...

  
Optimus blinked and then pulled his hand away quickly, embarrassment burning through him. It had taken a little while, but little pieces of information had congealed in his mind, telling him what was happening. He shifted awkwardly on his feet before reaching out and turning the hot water off.

  
He bit back a yelp as the water turned bitingly cold, and he was all too glad when his erection faded. He turned the water off entirely and stood in the shower for a moment, watching the water drain around his feet.

  
“ _Primus_ ,” he muttered as he stepped out of the shower, annoyed with himself.

  
He picked up a towel and briskly dried himself before figuring out boxers, applying deodorant (he and Megatron both had an intense dislike of the smell they emanated when unclean), and shoving himself into his new clothes.

  
Megatron was obviously engrossed in the television when Optimus finally made his way out of the bathroom, as he adjusted the belt around his waist.

  
“What are you watching?” he asked.

  
Megatron jumped at Optimus's voice and hissed in displeasure. “Don't startle me like that!”

  
“Then pay more attention to your surroundings,” Optimus said archly, making the Decepticon scowl. “Again, what are you watching?”

  
“Why does it matter?”

  
“ _Megatron_.”

  
The Decepticon remained stubbornly silent, which made Optimus sigh. “Fine. Come. We should go to the library to get the information we need.”

  
Megatron grunted in agreement and stood, stretching, a soft groan escaping his lips. “I hope to never spend another day sleeping on the ground like that.”

  
“I'm afraid you might have to, given what I have seen of the armed forces.”

  
Megatron growled in displeasure as they walked out of the room, locking the door behind them as Optimus slipped the key to the room in his pocket, since he had paid for more than one night. They headed off into the town proper after Optimus was sure their room was secure.

  
It wasn't a particularly large town, so they found the public library fairly quickly.

_  
Do you know how to read their languages, Megatron?_

_  
What kind of question is_ that _?_  Came the annoyed reply.  _Of course I can. How would I have been able to peruse their internet otherwise?_

_  
Point,_  Optimus admitted as they entered the building.

  
The library was cool and quiet and had the most interesting smell to it. Optimus was amused to observe that Megatron had unconsciously slowed down his walking pace, and had seemed to try and quiet himself.

_  
I will explore the internet. It will be a ...unique...experience to browse it from this position._

_  
Very well. I will go through the printed material._

_  
You do that,_  Megatron told him dryly as he peeled away to examine the computers.

  
Optimus shook his head, went to the periodicals rack, and took out the latest issue of a number of national news publications. Might as well get caught up on current events before going through scientific texts—not that he suspected there would be many manuals on 'how to be human'. A lot of it would be conjecture and trial-and-error on his and Megatron's parts. It was sure to be a frustrating learning experience, and even though they both learned very quickly, going from being a Cybertronian to a human wasn't going to be an easy task.

  
Optimus had the bad feeling that it would take  _years_  to grasp the full complexities of the society, but they would have to have the  _basics_  down before applying to be in the armed forces.

  
'But what would be the best way to figure out these things?' he wondered as he idly flipped through Time magazine. 'There are so many levels to society, so many different sets of expectations ranging from class to age to gender.'

  
Optimus sighed softly and wished desperately that he had a users manual for the situation he found himself in. Instead, all he had was his intellect, observational skills, and luck.

  
'Perhaps movies that are set in present time? And popular fiction novels? Even television programs? Then there's always observing how others interact.'

  
Optimus felt a headache building behind his eyes and closed the magazine, running his fingers along the glossy cover.

  
'Might as well see what Megatron is up to.'

  
Optimus stood and searched until he found Megatron perched at a computer terminal.

_  
Megatron, what are you doing?_  he asked, making Megatron look at him out of the corner of his eye and shrug.

_  
I have discovered a site on the internet called 'Wikipedia'. It's...fascinating._

_  
What're you reading about?_

  
There was a surly pause before Megatron spoke:  _If you_ must _know, I started out researching the United States Army and have now ended up reading about something called Star Wars._

  
Optimus did a poor job of smothering a grin.  _Sam has spoken about Wikipedia before. I wouldn't trust it entirely._

  
Megatron quirked an eyebrow.  _I only trust what I have personally experienced. Everything else is more likely than not a lie._

_  
A very Decepticon thing to say._

_  
A very_ true _thing to say._

  
Optimus sighed and put a hand on the back of Megatron's chair.  _Have you put any thought into how we are to get_ accepted _into the armed forces? If we can't act convincingly human—and we don't know half as much as we should in order to do so—they won't take us. Probably will believe that we're insane._

_  
And that would hinder our plans. Very well, Prime—what do you suggest we do about our lack of humanity?_  Megatron's tone was dry and made Optimus give him a mild glare.

_  
We watch what they do. We can also use popular culture as references. Not very_ reliable _ones, but they will give us some idea of how people behave in certain situations._

_  
Oh? What kind of references?_

_  
Movies. Television. Books. And, of course, the internet. But, I think we'll be better equipped to deal with all that if we're in a larger city._

  
Megatron scowled at the computer screen.  _I do not like that idea._

_  
It doesn't matter—we're going to have to do it whether you want to or not._

  
Megatron's lip curled in a silent snarl.  _I am going to kill you in your sleep one day for daring to order me around._

  
Optimus couldn't help the small smirk that formed on his face.  _You will try._

  
Megatron bristled.

_  
But that is neither here nor there. You want your revenge, I want to return to my companions. To do that, we need to work in tandem. You have seen me copy your actions—I only ask that you do the same, occasionally._

  
Megatron's eyes narrowed, but he seemed to calm slightly.  _So. What large city are we near and how will we get there?_

  
Optimus hesitated and thought.  _I believe we are closest to New York city._

_  
And just how to you plan on getting to said city?_

  
Optimus paused.  _I suppose a combination of hitch-hiking and public transportation._

_  
Why don't we just take a car?_

_  
Do you really want a criminal record?_

_  
Oh,_ right _. Doing that would be breaking one of their stupid_ laws _._

_  
Just because you have no respect for rules..._

_  
Even if we take one from a junkyard that no-one wants?_

_  
Yes, Megatron, we'd still be stealing._

  
Megatron almost  _pouted_ , which made Optimus suppress a snicker.

_  
Come. I have paid for today and tomorrow at the motel. We can use the time to watch the cable they provide and do some reading. Then we will head off to New York City._

  
Megatron sighed.  _Very well, Prime. We will follow this plan of yours—for now._

_  
For now,_  Optimus agreed. If there was anything he knew, it was that plans had a bad tendency to change at the last moment.

_  
You find your books. I intend on finding appropriate television programming._

  
Optimus nodded and left Megatron clicking idly at Wikipedia, obviously  _not_  looking up TV shows. Optimus shook his head and headed into the fiction section, picking out books at random.

  
By the time they were kicked out of the library, Optimus had read through a dozen or so books. He had been astonished by the variety in writing skill and subject matter, and felt that a larger library might have even  _more_  to offer him. The books he had read had offered him more than just a look into the collective human psyche, some had also been  _fascinating._

  
'The creativity of humans is astounding,' he thought to himself with good humor.

_  
You are smiling, Prime. What has you so pleased?_

  
Optimus jerked slightly at Megatron's voice and he looked to his side to see the Decepticon regarding him with an unreadable expression on his face.

_  
I've found out why some of the soldiers 'kill time' by reading novels. They're..._ very _entertaining. Human capability for creativity is to be commended._

_  
Mm-hm,_  Megatron murmured, the smallest of wry smirks forming on his face.  _As a species they are..._ Megatron paused, as if trying to find the right word,... _contradictory,_  he finally settled on.

  
Optimus gave him a curious look.

_  
I spent my time on the internet. While I most certainly don't trust all that Wikipedia contains, following the related links to other pages lead me to some..._ strange _...topics._

_  
Oh?_

  
Megatron shook his head.  _It is...complicated. I have read about human popular culture, of their history, current events, scientific advances, medical procedures and diagnoses, laws, diseases, industries legal and not..._ Megatron fell briefly silent.  _They are twisted for such a young race._

_  
They have made mistakes, but they are not beyond hope._

_  
Optimus,_ please. _They are not noble by any stretch of the concept. They have enslaved each other for no reason other than the color of their skin is different, killed each other in mass numbers in such a brutal manner that it's almost_ shameful _, are ruthless to enemies and allies alike...Optimus, they are_ beasts.

_  
It is nothing we ourselves haven't done,_  Optimus pointed out sadly.

  
Megatron glowered at the sidewalk as they made their way slowly towards the motel.  _They_ exploit _each other. Some use addictive natural—and some not so natural—substances to make another human completely dependent upon them. Without something they call a 'drug', it is entirely possible that an 'addict' may_ die. _There are entire_ industries _around sexual exploitation, organ harvesting, illegal activities...they do things to each other that no Cybertronain would ever_ consider.

  
Megatron paused and a smirk flitted across his face.  _But, as you say, they are capable of great creativity and kindness—although by no means nobility. Some of their most renowned leaders were great peace-makers, although it has only been recently that peace has become a common goal among the creatures. They can be very, very shallow._

  
Silence fell as they walked before Optimus's stomach growling in hunger broke it. Megatron gave the Autobot a toothy grin.  _Food?_

_  
Food._

  
Finally _something other than granola bars and trail mix_

  
Optimus couldn't help but silently agree. He was looking forward to trying other kinds of food.

  
They changed destinations and stopped in what Optimus recognized as a food store. It was only through sheer willpower that neither of them stared wide-mouthed at the  _selection_.

_  
It's possible to_ eat _all this?_

_  
Theoretically,_  Optimus replied distractedly, taking in all the edible things of varying shapes, sizes, colors, and prices. Oh, sure, he might know all of what he was looking at intellectually, but...

  
He caught Megatron's hand before he could squish what Optimus recognized as a tomato by squeezing too hard, earning a glower from the Decepticon, who yanked his hand away.

_  
Stop touching me!_

_  
Then stop making it necessary for me to do so!_

  
That was only the beginning of the silent argument that flew between them as they bickered over what to buy as they walked down the aisles.

  
In the end, they exited with a sandwich each and one bottle of iced tea and one soda, a surly silence between them.

  
They walked onto the street and began a leisurely trip back to the motel—it wasn't as if they had a set deadline. It gave them time to observe the architecture, the people, the businesses—everything that made the small town what it was.

_  
Our coloration really sets us apart, doesn't it?_  Megatron mused over their connection.  _We are acceptable otherwise—clothed, clean, etc. This means that how we appear color-wise is truly that remarkable,_  Megatron commented when he caught a passer-by staring.

_  
It is,_  Optimus affirmed.  _Which will undoubtedly make life difficult._

_  
They are not very tolerant of difference,_  Megatron drawled.

  
Optimus snorted as they turned into the motel parking lot, headed to their room. The Autobot fiddled with the key, letting them back into the room they had temporarily secured for themselves.

  
Megatron retrieved the soda and one of the sandwiches, and set about figuring out how to unwrap the food item, sharp-nailed fingers making quick work of the plastic surrounding it. Optimus took a little longer to figure out how to open it, and the wave of surprise that flooded him from Megatron over their connection made him wince.

  
“What?” he asked perhaps a little too sharply, looking over at the Decepticon. What he saw made whatever temper he had fade entirely.

  
Megatron was looking at the sandwich in something close to pure astonishment. Optimus had never seen such an unguarded look on the Decepticon's face and it both baffled and amused him.

  
“This is...” Megatron started, but appeared lost for words.

  
Curious, Optimus finished opening his own sandwich and took a tentative bite.

  
He found out why Megatron was caught off-guard. The trail mix and granola bars had been good enough—filling for stomachs unused to food—but  _this_  was completely different. The  _textures_  were different, from the vegetables, to the cheese, meat, and bread. Then each of  _those_  components had their own flavors...it was almost a sensory overload for Optimus.

  
'But I must learn to not behave in this manner,' he thought sadly. 'I hate knowing I have to become jaded to this experience.'

  
He chewed carefully, and was almost  _sad_  to swallow, but at least there was more of the sandwich to look forward to. There was also the iced tea to consider as well—all he or Megatron had drunk before was water. Optimus set aside the sandwich gently and twisted off the cap of the plastic container ('bottle'). He took a tentative sip and was unable to restrain a surprised sound. He had thought the round, colorful bits they sometimes found in trail mix were sweet, but  _this_  was even more so. It was slightly tart, but incredibly sweet—almost  _too_  sweet.

  
He heard Megatron coughing and looked over to find the Decepticon giving the bottle of soda ('Mountain Dew') a wary look.

  
“What's wrong?” Optimus asked.

  
“It's...” Megatron sighed in frustration. “Here. Try it,” he said and held out the bottle to Optimus, who took it suspiciously. “I have not had time or resources to poison it,” Megatron said dryly when Optimus looked it over, considering the object. Optimus smiled faintly before taking a sip of the soda.

  
He found himself sputtering slightly as well and gave the bottle of fluid a purely incredulous look. “It says it's 'carbonated'. Does  _that_  account for the...the...effervescence? Bubbles?”

  
“It's  _very_  strange,” Megatron commented and took the product back from Optimus. “But not objectionable,” he finished in a murmur as he took a small sip.

  
Optimus shook his head and turned his attention to his own food.

  
Megatron finished before he and picked up what Optimus now recognized as a remote control and turned on the television.

  
Soon, the only sound in the room as the two watched the television with rapt attention was what came from the electronic appliance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone was kind enough to point out that I had double posted a chapter. I'd like to thank them, and post the *correct* third chapter now.

_ his was a horrible plan, _ Megatron growled at Optimus, who merely sighed and readjusted the backpack on his shoulder. 

_  
Perhaps, _ he admitted. 

_  
Told you we should've just taken a car._

  
Stolen _ a car, Megatron. And no, that wouldn't have been the prudent thing to do. _

_  
So instead we're stuck walking down back-roads, getting dirty and damp and altogether uncomfortable?_

_  
How was  _ I _ to know that the weather would work against us? _

_  
You're a Prime, _ Megatron answered with a kind of malicious smugness.

  
Optimus gave him a glare that only made the Decepticon grin.

_  
What do  _ you _ suggest we do now, then? _ Optimus posed.  _ If we stay still, we catch hypothermia. We don't know when the weather will let up, but we  _ do _ know that if we keep on walking along this road that will we get to civilization where we can pick up some sort of public transportation. _

  
Megatron shrugged.  _ Forward progress is necessary to achieve any goal. This was a bad plan, but a necessary one. _

_  
Then why are you complaining?_

_  
To make your life difficult, of course,  _ Megatron replied cheerfully.

_  
Of course, _ Optimus repeated dryly.

  
When they had first started off, the sky had been clear and blue, the sun shining down on them—causing Megatron to bitch about the heat. Then it had become overcast and dreary, with only occasional periods of drizzle that slowly seeped into them over an almost interminable period of time.  _ Now _ Megatron was bitching about being wet and cold. It seemed as if the Decepticon would find something to complain about no matter what—which was a  _ pain _ , but Optimus knew it was only just to get on his nerves, and if he let it show Megatron would gloat, making matters all the worse.

  
'I would love nothing more than to rid myself of him, but I don't know what effect that would have on me,' Optimus thought sullenly.

  
Both of them jumped when they a loud beep came from behind them, and both whirled to face the sound, each tense and surprised.

  
A Hummer came up beside them, the obnoxiously neon green color tempered only by the copious amounts of mud on it. The passenger-side window rolled down, revealing a young man who looked far too curious for Optimus and Megatron's good.

  
“What'cha doing walkin' out'n the rain?” he asked with an accent Optimus couldn't place.

  
“Our car broke down,” Megatron lied. “And we don't have road-side assistance, so...”

  
“Ah, I see,” the man said. He seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “Get in the back. Ya might hafta work 'round some campin' stuff, but I think you'll be okay.”

  
Megatron and Optimus looked at each other quickly, Megatron's eyebrows raising slightly. “You're not going to try and kill us, are you?” he asked the driver, typically paranoid.

  
The young man blinked, then laughed. “I should be askin'  _ you _ guys that,” he said. “Get in.”

  
Optimus and Megatron shared one last glance before Optimus walked over to the back-door and opened it, his eyebrows snapping up when he saw the mess peeking over the backseat from the trunk. Who was he to complain, though? It would get them out of the rain.

  
He stepped in, ducking his head so as to not hit it against the roof of the car. He was astonished when the young man was the only one in the car, Megatron joining them and closing the door firmly. The young man then floored it, startling both of the Cybertronians.

  
“Where're you two headed?” 

  
“New York city,” Optimus replied as he regained his bearings.

  
The man sighed happily. “Love that place. Too bad I had t' move out—not cut out for the  _ urban _ jungle; much rather'd go with the real one. I'll drop y'guys off at a Metro North station—that'll bring you into Grand Central. From there, well, you can get almost anywhere.”

  
“Do you have any suggestions as to where we should go? We're...tourists.”

  
The man snorted. “Best if y' don't look like 'em. I'll send you to all the touristy-places, though, as well as tell you where y'can find some of the more outta-the-way worthwhile stuff. Name's Chris Moser—I used to live in the City before I discovered my love of the great outdoors,” he introduced himself. “So, what're your names?”

  
“Orion Pedersen.”

_  
Orion? You changed it._

_  
Figured that it'd be best to keep as few things changed as possible._

_  
That's even more dangerous than my last name being Tron...I wonder how that'll go over._

  
“Michael Tron,” Megatron said as their internal conversation was taking place.

  
Chris abruptly burst out laughing, slapping the steering wheel lightly.

  
“What's so funny?” Megatron asked sourly. 

  
“Just that Tron is the name of a _bad_ eighties sci-fi movie. You've _gotta_ have heard of it.”

  
“It's not _my_ fault my name is what it is,” Megatron lied smoothly, grumbling his answer.

  
“I know, I know. Still...” Chris chuckled for a moment longer before asking: “So, where're you guys from?”

_  
This _ would be the first test to see if their cover-story worked. 

  
“Mission City,” Optimus replied.

  
Chris made a surprised sound. “That place where there was that huge alien battle?”

  
“You believe in aliens?” Megatron asked, sounding close to disparaging. _That_ was another part of their plan—take any alien stories with skepticism, as most humans did.

  
“Hey, they're out there,” Chris replied defensively. “What else'd you call that whole broadcast and destroyin' the pyramids thing? That was _totally_ aliens—there's just too much evidence for it _not_ to be.”

  
Megatron gave Optimus an amused look.  _ How  _ are _ you dealing with that? _

_  
We're trying to find the best way to break it to the public that, no, most of us aren't out to get them, and yes, we exist. It's...difficult._

_  
I'd bet. _ “Still. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I don't believe it.”

  
“And anyway, there _are_ some skilled hackers out there—surely one of them could have done that?”

  
Chris rolled his eyes. “Buncha skeptics in the backseat. You'll see—I  _ know _ I'm right on this one.”

  
“Sure,” Megatron drawled.

  
“I could kick y'guys out, y'know.”

  
Megatron snorted and shook his head.

  
Optimus sighed. “You said you _were_ from New York City—where are you living now and what do you do?”

  
Chris seemed more than happy to launch into his autobiography:

  
Born and raised in 'The City', came from a family of four, including himself. His mother was a lawyer and his father was an astronomer (“Of one kind or another—I never really bothered asking.”). He had one younger brother (“A real pain in the  _ ass— _ at least he turned out alright, last I heard.”). His parents were separated (“But not divorced. My mom and dad have to live apart for a year before any action can be taken.”). He was the gym teacher at the local public school and also the co-ordinator of the Outdoors Club.

  
Megatron had looked incredibly skeptical at that. “What the  _ hell _ is an Outdoors club?” 

  
“Oh, we do all kinds of stuff. Hiking in the fall and spring, skiing in the winter—if we have enough funds, that is...”

  
Both Cybertronians listened with bemused interest as he rattled off all the activities he and his club participated in, while he occasionally disparaged the 'theatre club'.

_  
What's  _ that _? _

_  
Possibly something to do with performances humans occasionally put on...?_

_  
Why would he dislike it? It seems to have nothing to do with his own 'club'...why am I even asking? He's  _ human, _ and by his very nature, makes no sense. _

  
Optimus sighed inwardly.

  
The young man was more than happy to fill the silence as Megatron and Optimus listened, observing his speech patterns and gestures, the little tics that made him fluidly and completely human—things they hadn't quite gotten down simply because they hadn't had many people to base their own behavior on.

  
They pulled into what appeared to be a train station, and Chris stopped the car, turning around in his seat to give the two of them a smile. “Here's where we part ways. Have fun in the city!”

  
Megatron stepped out as Optimus said, “Thank you for the ride—we appreciate it.”

  
Chris shrugged. “Hey, I've had t' deal with the same situation—figured I'd help out.”

  
Optimus smiled and nodded before he, too, stepped out of the car, closing the door firmly behind him. He stepped out of the way and Chris zoomed off, barely missing colliding with opposing traffic as he made a left-handed turn out into the road.

_  
What  _ was _ that? His speech patterning was weird, _ Megatron asked as Optimus figured out the ticket-dispensing machine.

_  
Humans who live in different areas of the world—even the same  _ country— _ can have ways of speaking that are specific to their region. Humans call them 'accents'. I'm supposing he had a New York accent of  _ some _ sort... _

  
Optimus pressed all the correct buttons and retrieved two one-way tickets, one for him, one for Megatron, using up almost all their remaining money. He handed the Decepticon his ticket before moving to stand on the platform to wait for the train. Megatron reluctantly stood by him, looking down the train tracks, apparently ignoring the other humans as easily as they were ignoring the two of them. Optimus knew otherwise, but wasn't going to call the Decepticon on it, so started his own observations.

  
At the time of day that they were seeking transportation, not many others were waiting. Still, there were a few other people, who were indeed pointedly ignoring them even as they all huddled beneath the awning to keep the rain away. Apparently conversation was discouraged when waiting for the train. Of course, it also might have had something to do with them being damp and dirt covered, but...

  
Optimus walked over to the train schedule, and, after deciphering it, figured out that the next train headed in the direction they wanted would be in 5 minutes or so—luck was with them occasionally.

_  
All we need to do is take this train to its terminal point._

  
Megatron made a noise signifying he had heard, but the Decepticon was far away in his own thoughts, and Optimus, for one, felt no need to jerk him out of them— _ anything _ to keep the frustrating creature quiet. However, the quiet also gave Optimus time to brood.

  
He felt a little bad about not contacting his team, but who would believe him? It wasn't as if having the phone numbers of the  _ human _ commanding officers was any better—they'd try to track him down and kill him for  _ knowing _ the numbers or just dismiss him as a lucky hacker after tracking him and making sure he couldn't spread his knowledge around. His team and the humans who they fought alongside were an open-minded group, but it would be pushing  _ their _ beliefs to insist that he was Optimus Prime.

  
Afterall, what defined him now as Optimus Prime but his memories? His  _ body _ certainly wasn't Optimus Prime's.

  
Hell, even his  _ soul _ wasn't Optimus Prime's anymore—it was partly  _ Megatron's _ as well.

  
How was he Optimus Prime anymore, except in memory—and in only  _ two _ beings throughout the entire universe's memory at that? It was demeaning and frustrating that only his worst enemy could affirm that he was who he thought he was. 

  
Was it possible that one day he would no longer consider himself to be a Cybertronian trapped in a human shell, but genuinely  _ human _ ? Would his now-organic, limited mind slowly blur the edges of his formerly crystal-clear memories in favor of focusing on the more recent events of his life? Would Optimus Prime slowly fade to be replaced by this  _ new _ Self, this Orion Pedersen?

  
The possibility made him distinctly nervous. 'Stop being foolish, Prime,' he reprimanded himself. 'You have been Optimus Prime for  _ eons _ . Surely you cannot rid yourself of all that time, all those experiences. If all goes well, you might end up back as yourself in as little as two years.'

  
Somehow he couldn't bring himself to believe it. His life was far too complicated for things to be that simple.

  
His thoughts turned from his own predicament to the Decepticon who was standing—sulking, really—at his side. In all likelihood, Megatron found their current situation even more distasteful than he did. Megatron, however, was not prone to random bouts of philosophical ponderings, so Optimus couldn't guess what was going on in the Decepticon's head. He didn't  _ want _ to know anyway _. _

  
'Probably thinking about how he's going to kill Starscream. Or perhaps how he would go about destroying these humans if he was his normal self. Who knows what goes on in the mind of a raving megalomaniac?'

  
Optimus sighed softly, unhappily, earning an unreadable look from the Decepticon-turned-human standing next to him. Both of them jumped slightly at the sound of a horn, signifying an approaching train, and watched as contraptions that held long poles slowly brought said poles horizontal, providing a blockade around the train tracks, keeping any cars at a safe distance away. The train passed them with a burst of displaced air before it slowed to a stop, brakes whooshing softly as the wheels ground steel against steel. One door slid open and a human stepped out, the other humans present making their way over to the open door.

_  
C'mon,_ Optimus said and nudged Megatron, who gave him a glower. The two climbed up the stairs revealed and turned into the passenger car, looking around briefly. There were only a few people on board. The two former-Cybertronians found a three-person seat and sat as far away from each other as possible, Megatron leaning against the window, looking out it with his face cupped in his palm, while Optimus sat against the aisle, playing idly with his ticket. 

  
It was weird, traveling  _ in _ a machine that wasn't sentient. Optimus felt almost  _ dirty _ , riding inside the car of the train. It made no  _ logical _ sense, but with how his life was tending, who was he to bother with logic any longer?

  
'Relax, Optimus. Most Decepticons don't bother with something like human transportation—for the most part...' Optimus sighed softly. Optimus heard Megatron strangle a noise of surprise when the train jerked and began moving forward—Optimus sympathized, for once, since he had been equally startled. The pace of the motion increased, and a surprising cold ball of discomfort formed in his stomach. He had never been in anything mechanical that he was incapable of controlling himself, and he found the experience incredibly unnerving.

  
From how Megatron was sitting and the slight frown on his features, Optimus hazarded a guess that Megatron was equally unhappy—if not more so. Optimus knew from past experience that the one thing Megatron desired more than anything else was  _ control _ ...and now that he was in a position that lacked it, it was driving him crazy.

  
Well, crazier than he already was. And that was saying something.

  
Optimus sighed softly again and sat back in his seat, settling in for a long train ride.

  
–

  
New York city was quite large—larger than Optimus had expected. He had known  _ intellectually _ that it was a city that contained  _ millions _ of people, but it was an entirely different matter to discover that fact for himself. Buildings that he would have been on eye-level with now towered over him, making him feel very, very small. People rushed about, most occupied in their own little world of MP3 players, cell phones, Blackberries, and other electronic devices that made it easy to shut out the overwhelming drone of the world. It was a frantic, dizzying pace and it left both Megatron and Optimus standing in the main concourse of Grand Central Terminal mutely, completely overwhelmed.

_  
I understand better why the Fallen called the human race a 'hive', _ Megatron said wryly to Optimus.  _ Busy little creatures, aren't they? _

_  
With their lifespan, perhaps it is necessary,  _ Optimus commented.  _ Come. We have much to see and learn. _

  
Megatron made no reply, merely looking around with blatant curiosity as they walked.

_  
Hey, look—someone actually your color, _ Megatron said with some amusement, gesturing to a well-groomed businessman who was talking heatedly on his phone.

  
My _ coloration is not uncommon, _ Optimus replied dryly.  _ Yours is. _

  
Megatron snorted and shook his head.  _ Shall we just meander the streets? It's not as if we have anyplace we  _ need _ to be. _

_  
Sounds as good a plan as any, _ Optimus reluctantly admitted.

  
They moved awkwardly within the confines of the building, the pressure of so many people moving at odds with each other frustrating and unnerving.

_  
So, how are we going to get around? Just walking?_

_  
Until we have money, that's really our only option._

_  
Once we  _ do _ have money...? _

_  
Well, there_ is _public transportation..._

  
Megatron raised an eyebrow before snickering as Optimus mistook a pull-open door for a push-open one.

_  
Having a hard time reading, Prime?_

_  
Quiet, you. Even  _ natural _ humans make that mistake. _

_  
Mm-hm..._

  
Optimus would have decked the infuriating Decepticon just to get the smirk off his face, but was prevented from doing so by the plethora of people surrounding them. So he settled for stomping on Megatron's foot, causing the Decepticon to swear creatively in a number of languages as he half-staggered away from Optimus, leaning against the wall of the station building to let him take weight off of his now-injured foot.

  
That the action also kept Megatron from retaliating right away and probably causing a stir was an added benefit. Sure, his own foot hurt a little, but it was of little consequence. The glare he was receiving should have killed him, but Optimus was getting very good at brushing off Megatron's death-looks.

_  
As I was  _ saying _ , we have the option of public transportation once we get money. This means that we'd be able to take buses and...subways. You  _ do _ know what those are, don't you? _

_  
Of  _ course _ I know, what kind of stupid question is that? _

  
Optimus smirked slightly and inclined his head.  _ Good. Taxis are also a possibility, but a very reluctant one. They cost much more than other forms. _

  
Megatron tested his foot and his shoulders relaxed once he realized he could put all of his weight on it.  _ Then I suppose the first order of business here is to find employment. We need clothes, housing, and food. For that we need money. So, we find jobs. _

_  
It won't be that easy._

_  
Why not?_

_  
Without the right documentation..._

_  
Then we take jobs under the table. We get things that'll give us cash in hand when we're done with them, no questions asked._

_  
Where the  _ hell _ do you pick these things  _ up _? _

  
Megatron simply gave him his most arrogant, smug smirk, which made Optimus feel the urge to stomp on the Decepticon's  _ other _ foot. Unfortunately, the target was too far away, so he settled with plotting for later.

  
'I am spending far too much time around him _ ,'  _ he thought mournfully, 'if I am  _ plotting _ now.'  _ It doesn't matter, _ Optimus said over their connection.  _ Jobs. _

_  
Shall we buy a newspaper and look through the job advertisements or just gamble?_

  
Optimus blinked and sighed. 'Stop being surprised when he says something. It's good for his ego and bad for your sanity.'  _ Newspaper. _

  
The two of them fell into step with the other, although staying close was something they needed to work at—people seemed intent on getting where they were going, regardless of who they had to move to get to their goal.

  
Very few people ever looked up, Optimus noted. They were all very focused on what was going on within a 3-foot radius circle surrounding them, everything else out there be damned. This was often accomplished by being absorbed in something on their cell phone or iPod or simply staring determinedly at the sidewalk, a light, pensive frown on their features. There _were_ a few who managed to keep their head up while looking into the distance, still effectively ignoring everyone while seeming to pay attention. It was...fascinating and bewildering.

  
Chris had been right—it was  _ ridiculously _ easy to figure out who were the locals and who were the tourists; he was also pretty sure that they got lumped in with said tourists, most likely because they were looking at everything with unabashed curiosity.

  
Everything around them was one large flurry of motion and noise, lights flashing, people speaking in dozens of languages, some familiar and some not, cars passing alternately at a crawl and breakneck speed...the city  _ pulsed _ with activity. Optimus had never witnessed such utter chaos that was only barely restrained by generally accepted boundaries and laws. It was...disconcerting. Sure, he had seen scenes like this when he was in his alt form or when fighting a Decepticon in an urban area, but it was an  _ entirely _ different matter to find oneself on ground-level with everything.

_  
What is she  _ wearing? Optimus heard Megatron ask, an odd combination of a sneer and puzzlement in his mind-voice.

  
Optimus looked over and blanched.  _ I think you mean, what  _ isn't _ she wearing. _

_  
Oh, so that isn't normal? I wouldn't have guessed from that female that hangs around you all..._

_  
Mikaela? She is...it doesn't matter,  _ Optimus finished with a sigh.

_  
You know, no-one is looking twice at us. Their eyes either don't rest on us at all, or dismiss us immediately as not worth their attention—even though we look  _ very _ strange, _ Megatron observed, amused, as they began a slow saunter down the sidewalk.

_  
New York is a...it really is what people think of when they say that America is a 'melting pot of cultures'._

_  
Or just a home for freaks. Why does that girl have so many holes in her? How has she  _ not _ died from infection?  _ Megatron asked as he observed a young woman riddled with piercings.

_  
The same way that man hasn't keeled over from lead poisoning, I suppose, _ Optimus replied as he subtly indicated a heavily tattooed man walking nearby.

  
Megatron's lips twitched slightly in a most likely smothered smile.

_  
You can tell that there're more 'normal' people than oddballs, however, _ Optimus commented as they passed a family of four. 

_  
I suppose. Do the size differences indicate something?_

  
Optimus blinked and frowned.  _ What do you me... _ he trailed off as he remembered that the only humans Megatron had probably ever encountered were adults.  _ Well...humans are organic beings, and therefore have a...different way of reproducing. _

  
Megatron arched an eyebrow, but Optimus ignored the unspoken question.  _ When they have children, they start off quite small... _ Optimus looked around, seeing if he could locate a baby—without any luck.  _ As they grow— _

_  
They  _ grow? Megatron asked, incredulous.  _ So you're saying that the smaller ones are like...like...sparklings? _

  
Optimus nodded.  _ Something like that. They have a few major stages in their development; they go from being a baby, to a toddler, then a kid, then a tween, then an teenager, then an adult...although that's all relative. In truth they are sexually immature until their hormones go into overdrive and change them into physical adults. Whether or not they are  _ mentally _ adults is something else. Over time their body...decays, I suppose—it becomes less robust, since the cells are copies of copies. _

  
Megatron shook his head slowly.  _ Needlessly complicated. _

  
Optimus shrugged.

_  
Do the different appearances signify anything? There are far too many for there to be any clear delineation of allegiance._

  
Optimus sighed.  _ Humans...their society is slightly more complicated than at first glance. _

_  
Uh-huh. It appears this will take longer than I had thought._

  
There was a pause in the conversation as they wandered idly.

_  
I'm guessing the ones with gray hair are  _ not _ like me, considering they have many lines on their faces and bodies and appear rather fragile? _

_  
Those are human elders._

_  
Ah. So their appearance changes drastically depending on what age they are?_

_  
To an extent. People can color their hair and use medical procedures to try and preserve their youth for as long as possible. They...people don't like the prospect of decaying and dying._

_  
Can't imagine why, _ Megatron drawled.  _ So, the only time they have two distinct things is male and female? And by that very difference, some have more power than others? Even if the female is more capable and qualified? _

_  
Unfortunately,  _ Optimus affirmed.

  
Megatron smirked before growing thoughtful.  _ We should find someplace to stay.  _

_  
We don't have any more money._

_  
I've seen people loitering about places, sleeping under newspapers and whatnot. We can do that until we have money. It's not like we haven't slept in similar conditions before._

_  
Technically vagrancy is a crime._

  
Megatron rolled his eyes. Seriously _ , Prime? Bend the rules every now and then. We will need to in order to survive. Afterall,  _ we don't exist. _ How do you propose to fix that without lying elaborately and thoroughly? _

  
Optimus had no answer, and so merely sighed.  _ We have  _ many _ things we need to address. Where do we  _ start?

  
Megatron shrugged casually.  _ Money. We make money first—everything else falls in place after that. _

  
Optimus nodded somberly.  _ True. Let's head to the library. _

_  
Why would we go to the libr...oh. Internet access._

_  
Online job listings are easier than searching through newspapers and postings._

_  
We need a phone, though—to call the places._

_  
And an e-mail account._

_  
Oh, I got  _ that _ one covered. _

_  
Do I even  _ want _ to know what it is? _

  
Megatron grinned toothily.  [ _ Autobotssuck@gmail.com _ ](mailto:Autobotssuck@gmail.com)

_  
Primus, Megatron, I hate you._

  
Megatron simply chuckled, smirking.  _ The feeling is mutual. But, come. Where can we get a cell phone? Or at least pocket change so we can use those pay-phones I see every now and then. _

  
Optimus shrugged slightly.  _ Hopefully we'll be able to use just the e-mail—that would make life easier. _

  
Megatron snorted and nodded slightly.  _ So, Prime, where exactly  _ is _ this library? _

  
There was a long, awkward pause that had Megatron sigh.  _ So, get a map first? _

_  
Map first._

  
It was beginning to look more and more as if this process was going to be very, very long and very, very tedious.

  
As they walked, Optimus jumped in surprise and grunted slightly in pain when Megatron elbowed him to get his attention.

_  
Optimus, what's that?_

  
Optimus looked towards where Megatron indicated. It took him a moment to process what he was seeing.  _ Oh. I think...I  _ think _ that is a  _ painting _. _

_  
A what?_

_  
It's a...a...piece of art. Something humans make for beauty or meaning. It's a...creative activity. Something that engages the human imagination._

  
Megatron gave him a look that clearly communicated that he thought Optimus was speaking nonsense.  _Art_ , the Decepticon repeated slowly. He then abruptly broke off from Optimus and dodged traffic haphazardly as he crossed the street before coming to a stop in front of the shop window that housed the object of Megatron's curiosity.   
  
Optimus looked across the street and sighed, a strange tug at his core telling him he shouldn't let Megatron stray too far away from him while their Bind was still in its infant stages. That which they had was a precarious thing, and if anything happened to sever or strain the connection...well, losing part of their souls promised to be a painful and most likely fatal experience. Either Megatron didn't _care_ or didn't _know_ , both of which frustrated the Autobot leader. 

  
'How can he treat himself so _carelessly_?' he fumed while taking the more legal route across the street. An alarming thought hit him as he walked over: 'Maybe death is preferable to living as partly-me. Maybe he doesn't care because he's more than willing to die taking me down with him. That his autonomy takes precedence even over revenge.'

  
The thought made Optimus distinctly nervous.

Did he like their situation? Primus, no. But was he willing to commit suicide in order to free himself of Megatron? Again, a very emphatic  _ no _ . He liked  _ living _ , even though his current state of existence was hateful. He shook his head sadly and came up next to Megatron, standing next to him and looking at the piece of art. He couldn't discern what had Megatron so enraptured, but found the situation amusing. Even though the Decepticon had professed time and again a hatred for  _ everything _ human, he seemed to be taking to some aspects of human culture.

  
Optimus grew bored and whapped Megatron upside the head, making the Decepticon snarl and glare at Optimus, one hand going to where Optimus had hit him.

  
“What was _that_ for, Optimus?”

  
“Orion, please,” Optimus replied calmly, cooly. “Why are you so taken in by this?” he asked, jerking a thumb towards the piece of art.

  
Megatron shifted on his feet and scowled at Optimus. “It is nothing. C'mon. We have better things to be doing,” he growled and turned quickly on his heel, stalking off, the buzz of his internal mutterings creating a strange kind of white-noise in Optimus's skull. He tried to shake it out, but another  _ external _ sound quite effectively drew his attention from it.

  
Optimus had encountered music before, of course—Bumblebee insisted on using the radio to express himself to his charge.  _ He _ , however, had never really cultivated an appreciation for it, since the program he had to run to make sense of the cacophony of frequencies was complex and exhausting. It was hard enough deciphering and combining the sounds that organic beings made—what counted as their version of speech. He occasionally marveled at how their brains had developed such advanced programming to make listening to music or each other effortless and unconscious. 

  
So he was astonished and nearly came to a halt when he passed someone on the sidewalk playing a cello, and found that the sound was...

_  
Beautiful _ .

  
Only Megatron's brisk pace kept him from stopping altogether and simply listening in rapture to the musician.

  
Now that he was actually paying attention to the sounds in the background, he realized that he was constantly assailed by music as he passed by restaurants, cafes, almost  _ any _ kind of store had some kind of music associated with it. The city itself began to take on a pattern, a music of its own—the clatter and rumble of the subways speeding along beneath his feet, the honk and whir of cars on the street, people talking, walking, skating, bicycle riding...it was a  _ rhythm _ all its own. It took a moment for him to become aware that Megatron was trying to catch his attention.

_  
What? _ He asked absently.

_  
Where  _ were _ you? _ Megatron asked, obviously annoyed.

  
Optimus simply shrugged. He had no obligation to explain to the Decepticon what had pulled him in.

  
Megatron's expression gradually became dark as he realized Optimus wasn't about to say anything.  _ Be that way, _ he growled in a surly manner.

_  
Hold up, _ Optimus said, slightly distracted, and grabbed Megatron's elbow, making the Decepticon give him a silent snarl and wrench his arm away. 

  
“What?” he asked aloud. 

  
“How far did we walk from Grand Central?”

  
Megatron frowned. “Not that far. Why?”

  
“They probably have maps and informational touristy stuff there. We should head back and gather what we can.”

  
Megatron groaned and shook his head. “We make progress only to have to backtrack. This is  _ annoying. _ ”

  
“Tell me about it,” Optimus grumbled under his breath. “Come. Let's not waste any more time, then, shall we?”

  
The two reluctantly turned around and began their way back to the transportation hub, Megatron silently seething. The emotion turned into something...else...over time, and that made Optimus nervous.

_  
What? _ He asked warily.

_  
You know, you get an awful lot of looks from the law enforcement officials. Why?_

  
Optimus sighed.  _ There is still a lot of racism present in this country, even though it is better than some places. Caucasian police officers tend to watch people of apparently-african descent more closely, since they don't think those of my... _ color _...can be trusted. _

  
Megatron chuckled darkly.  _ And among the two of us, the reverse is true.  _ I'm _ the one they should be watching, since I'm the more dangerous one. _

  
Optimus frowned.  _ We are equally strong. _

  
Megatron gave Optimus a smug look.  _ If you say so... _

  
Optimus gave him a smirk in return.  _ Then why have  _ I _ been the one to win the majority of our confrontations? _

_  
Because you're  _ lucky _ , that's why! It's got  _ nothing _ to do with skill, _ Megatron snarled.

_  
Luck isn't the half of it, _ Optimus replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.  _ I couldn't have beaten you as often as I have if it was  _ just _ luck _ .

  
Megatron simply shook his head obstinately, which caused Optimus to sigh.

  
The two entered Grand Central again, once more being engulfed in the hustle and bustle of everyone trying to get  _ somewhere _ . Eventually, the found an information stand and picked up a map of the subway system and island as a whole as well as numerous brochures for attractions. They sat down on a bench and began to look through everything they had acquired. 

  
“What _is_ most of this?” Megatron murmured, borderline astonished.

  
Optimus shrugged and flipped over one of the flimsy, shiny pieces of paper. “No clue.”

  
There was a brief silence as they both looked through the advertisements.

_  
You know,  _ Megatron started,  _ we make very bad humans. People are ignoring us, but you can tell that we don't... _ fit _ quite right. _

_  
That's what we're here to remedy—in order to be convincing, in order to achieve our aims...we have to blend in seamlessly. Which is going to be very hard for you, considering how much you like the spotlight._

  
Megatron glowered at the floor, but said nothing. They were enveloped in silence before Megatron broke it once more:

_  
How the  _ hell _ are we going to get speaking like them down? Even in this city alone there are different accents! _

_  
We do our best. I think just pick an accent and learn it—although we  _ do _ have to worry about sounding too young, it'd seem like we're trying too hard. _

  
Megatron snorted and shook his head.  _ This is  _ obnoxious.  _ We can't sound too educated, too uncultured, too young, too old... _

_  
No-one ever said this would be easy._

_  
Quiet, Prime, _ Megatron snarled.  _ You're talking all of this with surprising grace. You weren't in league with Starscream, were you? _

  
Optimus was horrified by the accusation, and it must have shown, since Megatron backed down, paranoia assuaged.  _ Why haven't you tried to contact your fleshling friends anyway? _

_  
Megatron, do you  _ honestly _ believe that  _ they _ would believe our situation? And how do I explain  _ you _ , anyway? They'd more likely than not waste you on the spot before I could get around to the 'if-you-kill-him-you-kill-me-too' bit. _

  
Megatron made a noise of acknowledgement.  _ And it's not as if we can go to the Decepticons and expect not to be eliminated. _ The Decepticon leader sighed heavily.  _ Well, then. It appears that deception is our best option. _

  
Optimus winced inwardly at the obviously deliberate phrasing and sighed softly.  _ Well, we have our map. Time to get jobs. _

_  
This will be interesting,  _ Megatron drawled as he pushed himself to his feet.

  
Optimus had the sinking feeling that “interesting” would be far too tame a description.  _ Speaking of Starscream, _ Optimus began, catching Megatron's attention.  _ Why did you recruit—and keep—him? _

_  
Think of it this way: had I left Starscream to his own devices, it is entirely probable that he would have actually managed to gain skills and followers of his own. As it was, I didn't want a  _ third _ active faction in the war I started, and so made myself too tempting of a target for him to pass up. Having him near me meant that I could watch over him and curb his bids for power. _ Megatron paused.  _ It also kept  _ me _ from becoming complacent in my power. Having to constantly keep my guard up around my own was good for me. _

_  
Good for your  _ paranoia _ you mean. _

  
Megatron shrugged.  _ It doesn't matter. All that matters  _ now _ is that when I get my hands on that piece of scrap, he is going to  _ regret _ doing this to me. _

  
Optimus sighed and shook his head.  _ Whatever. _ He paused, thinking before speaking again:

_  
Megatron._

_  
What?_ He replied, obviously annoyed.

_  
Why did you start the war?_

  
Megatron looked over to Optimus, annoyance changed to amusement.  _ Why do you want to know? _

_  
Just want to hear justification from the Devil's mouth._

  
Megatron grinned.  _ Long answer or short one? _

_  
Short—you tend to ramble._

  
Megatron rolled his eyes.  _ Then: It was necessary. _

_  
NECESSARY?! All that pain, all that suffering, the destruction of the very thing that gives us life was  _ necessary?

_  
Did you  _ notice _ our life before I took matters into my own hands? We were  _ stagnant.  _ We were decaying, rusting, becoming impotent, lazy,  _ vile. _ We were locked in a heady nightmare of peace. We had stopped exploring because, why bother? We had everything we could ever need. I could see us spiraling into a slow, torturous extinction from inaction. I saw the need for a revival, and while I  _ tried _ to work within the confines of my station for a while, I was getting  _ nowhere.

_  
I wracked my processor, trying to figure out what I could  _ possibly _ do to get through to the lethargic citizens of our homeworld. I endured many sleepless nights as all my peaceful plans fell through, one after another. Then, one evening, I became so frustrated that I ended up wasting a good part of my lodging in frustration.  _

_  
And that  _ freed _ me. That was my realization—destruction. Only warfare—which we seemed to have long forgotten—would be the way to awaken the torpid race I found myself stuck in. So, I began to spread a new message throughout the citizenry, and found that it attracted a much more vigorous response. All creatures desire power—and with me telling them that they could have it if they only followed me...well, there were so many takers I had to create a name for this new faction. Decepticons. Not because  _ we _ deceive...but because we see through the deception that peace is good. _

  
My _ war breathed life back into our existence. It made life worth  _ living _. Gave Cybertronians  _ purpose. _ How are those things evil? Admittedly, I didn't count on the destruction of the All-Spark, but don't you think that once I had taken care of the resistance against me I would start rebuilding even as the Decepticons expanded throughout the universe? I would  _ remake _ the Cybertronian race after all the death I incited. All things must die in order for new ones to take their place. I was doing this for the  _ good _ of the Cybertronian race! _

  
Optimus  _ stared _ at Megatron, who seemed quite pleased with himself.  _ Seriously? _

  
Megatron rolled his eyes.  _ No, I lie. Actually, I  _ have _ told you the truth. Although you're the only one who's heard it. I let Cybertronians believe what they want to about my motivations. _

  
Optimus shook his head.  _ You are a sick, sick creature. _

  
Megatron shrugged.  _ Think what you will. I do not seek your approval. And anyway, wasn't it  _ your _ idea to destroy the All-Spark rather than let it fall into my hands? Aren't  _ you _ the one who doomed our race, not I? _

  
Optimus's eyes narrowed.  _ Don't project your megalomania on me. _

  
Megatron chuckled darkly.  _ Think about it, Prime. _

  
An uncomfortable silence fell before Megatron changed the subject, asking:  _ What  _ are _ all these...places? _

_  
What are what places? _

_  
These,  _ Megatron said, gesturing to a shop.  _ What are they? _

  
Optimus sighed inwardly. 'We will address the issue of “his” war later, I suppose.'  _ Well... _ Optimus paused.  _ I believe that is a high-end clothing store. _

_  
High-end?_

_  
Um...expensive. Very expensive._

_  
Uh-huh. Hey, what're those? I saw them at the grocery store but we didn't buy any,  _ Megatron commented as they walked past a Bakery.

_  
They're... _ Optimus struggled to find an explanation.  _ I can't really tell you. They're food and I know that they're supposed to be sweet and I know their  _ names _ , but... _

_  
Then we have to buy some._

_  
With all the money we don't have._

_  
Come, Prime. Live a little._

_  
No,  _ Optimus said flatly.  _ We have to worry about our  _ basic _ needs first. _

  
Megatron almost  _ pouted _ before sighing and running a hand through his hair, before nodding stiffly.  _ Understandable...hey, what's that? _

  
Optimus sighed and followed a little ways behind Megatron, who stopped to look at a sidewalk vendor's goods with blatant curiosity. The former Decepticon flitted from chachka to chachka*, picking them up and turning them over in his hands. The merchant was obviously becoming annoyed with him pawing everything, but apparently held out hope that Megatron might buy something.

  
Only to be abruptly disappointed as Megatron moved on to the next vendor. Optimus found himself smiling ruefully as a steady stream of distracted thoughts radiated off of Megatron, the Decepticon obviously not bothering to shield, since, well, what was Prime going to  _ learn _ from him?

  
A surprising amount, actually.

  
Optimus had always known that Megatron was smart—almost alarmingly so. When he had turned his substantial intellect towards Galactic (possibly Universal) domination, Optimus had feared the worst. How was he, a newly minted Prime, supposed to keep  _ Megatron _ , of all Cybertronians, from conquest? It was absurd! The only thing that had tempered his intelligence was his immense pride that caused him to overestimate his own abilities and undervalue those of others.

  
Now, he was allowed to see the intellect Megatron tended to keep carefully hidden beneath layers of arrogance and pomp. His insight wasn't  _ keen, _ per se, but he had meticulous observational skills. The only problem was that there was  _ so much _ to observe that his mind kept on jumping from topic to topic, sensation to sensation, wandering in a pathway that was almost quantum in behavior.

  
Optimus decided to ignore him unless a particularly strong thought hit him, and contented himself with observing the civilian population and their surroundings.

  
He had never seen such a wide range of humans before. Sure, NEST took members from all branches of the American military and some from British forces (Optimus had heard of the possibility of expanding even more, since the Decepticons were no longer a purely American threat), and there was a mixture of ethnicities in the group, but _this_...everything else paled in comparison.

  
Optimus had never heard so many languages spoken! Admittedly, in his curiosity and diplomatic nature, he had learned most of the Terran languages, so he could understand what they were saying, but it took his now-organic mind a little longer to process the jumps from Spanish to English to Chinese to Farsi...it was astonishing.

  
As Megatron absorbed  _ things _ with intense curiosity, Optimus turned his mind to  _ people. _

  
Optimus wasn't sure how long they wandered, and didn't really  _ care _ where they wandered either, but somehow, they ended up in a section of the city Optimus recognized from the movies he occasionally caught Bumblebee watching with Sam:

  
Times Square.

  
It became even harder for Optimus to think, being as barraged by Megatron's distracted thoughts as he was. There was  _ so much _ going on it was almost overwhelming. They walked by a store called “Toys 'R Us,” and Megatron stopped dead in his tracks. Optimus frowned and looked where he was.

_  
What  _ are _ those things? What's going on in there? _

_  
They're toys, Megatron. They're...things humans play with..._

_  
Play with?  _ Megatron repeated, an eyebrow quirking.  _ How? _

  
Without waiting for Optimus's answer, Megatron walked quickly into the store, Optimus trailing behind with a sigh.

  
'I feel like I'm...what's the human phrase for it?... _ babysitting _ ,' he thought glumly as he followed their Bond through the throng of parents and their children. He was sure he looked out of place, but from how he was struggling to keep his jaw from dropping, he was pretty sure he got slotted under 'tourist'.

  
The colors and the noise and the  _ variety _ were...stunning to Optimus. The only child he had ever had  _ any _ sort of contact with was Captain Lennox's young girl, but now he was  _ surrounded _ by them. He found himself covertly watching how the parent/child dynamic worked, as well as the one between siblings. 

  
A wave of shocked amusement hit him before he heard Megatron say,  _ Optimus, come here. I want to show you something. _

  
The suppressed glee in Megatron's voice made Optimus's stomach sink towards his heels, but he eventually found where Megatron was standing. His eyebrows shot up and the sense of amusement across their bond grew stronger.

_  
Transmorgifiers?_

  
“ _Alien robots in disguise among us,”_ Megatron paraphrased. _Sound familiar, Prime?_

  
Primus _...imagine when the public finds out that what they believed to be science  _ fiction _ is actually science  _ fact.

_  
I hope I am around for it. I would love to see it...oh  _ Unicron, _ this must be some kind of bad joke...  _ Megatron trailed off as he picked up a package.

_  
What?  _ Optimus asked and walked over to look at the toy Megatron was holding.

_  
Starholler?  _ Optimus read and Megatron was snickering as he put the package back. 

_  
I  _ need _ to use that on Starscream before I waste his sorry ass, _ Megatron said with vicious smugness. _ This is fascinating. I want to look around some more... _

  
Optimus sighed and followed along behind Megatron, feeling no need to stop the Decepticon. As long as his curiosity was engaged in something other than destruction and death and plotting evil schemes, Optimus was more than happy to let him run loose. He just had to be on guard in case Megatron decided to be vindictive over some perceived slight.

_  
Hey, Megatron, _ Optimus prompted as a thought floated across his mind.

_  
What? _ The Decepticon replied distractedly.

_  
Why do you swear by Unicron? Isn't that basically like swearing by the Terran devil?_

  
Optimus got the distinct feeling of a shrug before an answer:  _ Self-preservation. _

_  
What?_

_  
Think of it like this: I  _ know _ Unicron exists. I also know that, with  _ my _ luck, I might run across it. Now, assume I  _ do _ , and it finds out I revere it—all powerful cosmic beings tend to have egos as big as their titles. So, chance is that if it goes to kill off everything, it'll at least find me  _ amusing _ , and so spare me. This will either give me more time to abscond elsewhere or leaves Unicron unguarded long enough so I can take advantage of the confusion to secure power for myself. From what we can tell, Primus is no longer an active presence in our plane of existence. So, tell me—who is it better to revere? A non-participatory God or a very real, very dangerous Devil? _

  
Optimus sighed.  _ Why'd I even bother asking? _

  
Megatron simply smirked as he waited at the exit door to the toy store, walking out of the glass doors once Optimus had caught up to him.

  
Dusk was slowly descending upon the city, but the lights and traffic kept the darkness at bay, activity never slowing—in fact, it appeared to be speeding up. The brightly glowing illuminations streaked across Optimus's vision, leaving odd and disconcerting after-images on his retina. His stomach growled in complaint, having not eaten since...well, it had been some time.

_  
Megatron—_

_  
Already ahead of you,  _ the Decepticon replied, having vanished from Optimus's  _ sight _ ...but not from his senses. Optimus followed the tug of their Bond, only to nearly run into the Decepticon as he returned with two...'Damn, what's the word? Hot dogs?' 

  
Optimus took one from the Decepticon before he could claim he had gotten both for himself, earning a small smirk from his counterpart.

_  
Did you steal these?  _ Optimus asked.

  
Megatron gave him a dry look.  _ You're not complaining.  _

_  
There are times survival takes precedence._

_  
Perhaps you aren't as dim as I have always thought you to be, _ Megatron commented mildly as he took a bite of the hot dog.

  
Optimus snorted and shook his head.  _ I'm a Prime for a reason. _

_  
I suppose._

  
Silence fell between them as they walked, Megatron quickly being distracted by the plethora of shiny, flashing objects in the same way that Optimus was amused to discover how the  _ type _ of people had changed with the shifting of the day.

_  
What is a SportsCenter?_

  
Optimus made a “hm?” sound before looking where Megatron was.  _ ESPN SportsCenter. Um...Well, it's a place that focuses on sports. _

_  
Which are...?_

_  
There are a number of them, although the most popular in the United States are football, basketball, baseball, and ice hockey. I think...this time of year is baseball season._

_  
Okay, fine, but _ what are they?!

  
Optimus paused, thought, frowned, then sighed.  _ C'mon. Let's see if we can get in.  _

_  
Can't see why not._

_  
You obviously don't remember how bad we look. At least we've dried out._

  
Megatron snorted as the two approached the restaurant/bar, quickly and quietly entering along with the press of other people. They hung back and Optimus let Megatron look around, he keeping one eye on the Decepticon as he, too, absorbed their surroundings.

_Sports are an athletic competition, it seems, but it's not about survival._

_  
It's not like the gladiatorial matches you set up on Cybertron._

  
Megatron shook his head almost imperceptibly.  _ Then what's the point?  _

_  
As far as I can tell, it's simply fun. Both to play  _ and _ watch. _

_  
Mm-hm..._

  
Megatron picked up a baseball and turned it over in his hands before putting it back.  _ What are the Mets and Yankees?  _

_  
Two baseball teams that are based here in New York City, I  _ think.

_  
Aren't you the wellspring of information._

_  
Shut up, Megatron._

  
Megatron smirked and shrugged slightly. He was distracted by the flickers of light from the bar and looked in to find massive amounts of televisions.

_  
Isn't that a little...excessive? _ He said skeptically.  _ And they're nearly all watching the same thing! _

_  
No, there are small differences—see how that team is red versus red but the other is black versus blue? That means there are two different games going on that people can watch._

  
Megatron shook his head.  _ Very easily distracted, aren't they? _

_  
Perhaps._

  
Optimus noticed the disapproving look they were getting for simply loitering and half-dragged Megatron out of the place.

_  
But I wanted to watch more of the game! It looked interesting!  _ Megatron protested petulantly. 

_  
There are sports competitions every night. You will have plenty of time to watch them._

_  
Really?  _ Every _ night? _

_  
For the most part, yes._

_  
Don't they get tired?_

_  
That's why they sometimes have days off._

_  
Days of rest?_

_  
Yes._

_  
Huh. Hey, what's Coca-Cola?_

  
Optimus sighed. 'What's the saying? Kid in a candy shop? Who knew he'd be so damn  _ fascinated _ when he professes to hate the species.'  _ A kind of drink. Like the Mountain Dew you had. _

_  
Ah. Well, we'll stay away from that, then._

  
Megatron stopped to look up at a  _ very _ large billboard advertisement for the GAP.  _ Prime. _

_  
What?_

_  
There are pictures of half-naked males and females all over the place—why?_

_  
For the most part, the pictures are...trying to sell something._

  
Sell _ something? _

_  
By appealing to the attractiveness of the person—if  _ they _ are this attractive and using this product, surely if you use this product it will make you equally attractive. _

_  
That's nonsense, _ Megatron replied, incredulous. 

_  
It's psychological. You'll see._

  
Megatron snorted and shook his head before being distracted by more bright lights.  _ What's an Olive Garden? _

_  
A restaurant._

_  
A what?_

_  
A place where you can sit down and have people make food for you and bring it to you. For a price._

  
Megatron scowled.  _ For a price. Always for a price. Is that  _ all _ that this species thinks about? Money?  _ He paused as he watched a rather attractive-looking young woman walk by, clearing his throat and flushing once she had passed and he realized he had stared.  _ And sex. Money and sex. _

  
Optimus suppressed a snicker.  _ Who knows? We'll find out over time, won't we? _

_  
Unfortunately._ There was a pause as Megatron looked around.  _There are other food establishments, I think. Lots of 'pizza' places. What's pizza?_

  
Optimus paused. _Something that both Sam and Commander Lennox enjoy._

_  
Okay, so...?_

  
Optimus shrugged. _I can tell you what I remember from the internet, but it will not be helpful._

  
Megatron snorted and shook his head. _Gyros, hot dogs, nuts...okay, add a third obsession—food._

_  
And do you blame them?_

_  
About the last one? Not at all._

  
There was another brief pause before Megatron spoke again: _I see some large pictures advertising something coming out on a particular date. What does_ that _mean?_

_  
Most likely they're advertising a TV show._

  
Megatron slowly shook his head. _This is_ dizzying. _They are constantly assailed on all sides, a kind of sensory overload. How do they_ deal _with it?_

_  
They grow up with it. They're jaded to it. Like we will have to become._

  
Megatron sighed. _And these thrice-blasted_ chemicals _circulating through their bodies._

_  
Hormones._

_  
Whatever._

  
Optimus was distracted as he caught sight of a particularly interesting building.

_  
United States Armed Forces Recruitment Center. I think we found where we need to go once we can pass as them._

_  
Huh? Oh. Yes, I suppose that_ would _be where we would go. But I don't think we'll be able to be convincing for a while._

_  
Agreed. Right now, everything is just too_ new _and we're still adapting to these bodies..._

_  
Yeah, well—_

  
Optimus had to steady Megatron when someone bumped into him, but the Decepticon's attention was far from Optimus and focused on the person who had bumped into him and walked on as if nothing had happened.

  
Megatron tried to lunge after the person, but Optimus kept a strong grip on him. Optimus didn't need Megatron to make a scene, so he dragged the Decepticon away, Megatron surprised enough to take a few willing steps before starting to dig in his heels.

  
Optimus was simply glad that it appeared his was physically stronger than Megatron. Once they were relatively safe (see: inconspicuous), Optimus let go.

  
Megatron immediately jerked away and snarled. “What was  _ that _ for?!”

  
“We don't need to be thrown in jail, _idiot,_ ” Optimus hissed back. “And you causing public disturbances in a very public place is a good way to have it happen!”

  
“It was _his_ fault! He bumped into _me!_ He _deserved_ to be punished!”

  
“That is not your place to determine!”

  
“It _should be_!”

  
There was a resounding silence after that statement.  _ Megatron, you are  _ no longer _ Lord High Protector. Primus, you no longer have  _ any _ power as you are. Right now, you and I are simply homeless bums _ _ ! You and I are starting at the very, very  _ bottom _ of the human social system. You want power? You want prestige? You want control? Fine. You can  _ eventually _ achieve everything that you desire, but you have start over. YOU HAVE NO CHOICE, _ Optimus snarled over their connection, grabbing Megatron's wrist, keeping the Decepticon beside him. Optimus took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.  _ We will start tomorrow. We will learn how to pass as human. Then we can enlist in the military, and you can start to accrue the power you so covet. _ Optimus was ashamed that the last bit came out almost bitter. There was more to life than  _ power _ , but that seemed to be all Megatron cared about. 

  
Perhaps it always had been.

  
Megatron gave him an inscrutable look, garnet eyes glowing in the shadows. There was a beat of tense silence before Megatron smirked, shoulders relaxing.  _ Perhaps I have misjudged you, Prime. Very well. I will refrain from getting in altercations which could result in my being arrested. _

  
Optimus was about to relax when he found himself pinned against the wall of the building behind him, Megatron's forearm pressing against his neck, the Decepticon's body turned so that Optimus would be unable to find any particularly good place to hit.  _ Just a warning, Prime, _ Megatron growled, his eyes locking onto Optimus's.  _ If you seek to further order me around, things will get very, very painful for you. _

  
Optimus's eyes narrowed.  _ You will  _ try.

  
Megatron put just a little more pressure on Optimus's neck before backing away, his eyes never leaving Optimus's.

_  
And succeed._

  
Optimus had the bad feeling that many of their... _disagreements_...would be settled in a less than polite way.

_  
Come on. There's still stuff to see,  _ Megatron half-growled over their connection, stepping out into the street again, Optimus following a breath behind. Megatron was right—there  _ was _ a lot to see—but Optimus had a feeling that it would be quite some time before they got beyond the surface of what it meant to be human.

 


End file.
